


A Little Less Sixteen Candles... Continued

by SaskiaK



Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, The Academy Is...
Genre: F/M, Vampires, video fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-01 01:17:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 54,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10911348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaskiaK/pseuds/SaskiaK
Summary: Picks up straight from the video - Pete has been recaptured by William Beckett, leader of the vampire coven known as The Dandies. He even has Patrick and Andy caught in his trap. It's all down to Joe and the mysterious woman to find and rescue them





	1. The Aftermath

Pete watched in silence as the huge ornamental gates swung open slowly. His breathing quickened as he realised that this was his only chance to escape. With its lights flashing and sirens blaring, the patrol car had run every red light on the way to the mansion and only now did it stop as they waited for the hydraulics to pull the gates sufficiently wide enough apart for the car to drive through. Unable to run or fight, barely able to walk in the restricting shackles around his wrists and ankles Pete knew his chances of escape were slim, but they were zero if he didn’t even try.

Raising up his legs, with a grunt of effort, Pete kicked the back of the left hand side seat with all his strength. Briefly watching with a satisfied smirk as the seat dislodged from its housing and both seat and driver were forced forward at speed. A sickening crunch filled the interior of the car as the vampire’s chest was crushed against the steering wheel. Blood poured from his mouth and wounds as he slumped forward. Not waiting for a reaction from the second police officer, Pete crashed through the rear window, tearing his bear arms on the broken glass strewn trunk as he rolled off. Already, he had heard the second vampire cursing and opening the passenger door. His hands and feet chained together, Pete’s brow furrowed deeply as he realised that he couldn’t even stand fully upright. Pulling desperately on the thick and sturdy chains in an unsuccessful attempt to break them, he was forced to accept that his escape attempt was fruitless. At his side in a matter of seconds, the vampire police officer laughed to see the distress and helpless frustration on Pete’s handsome face. 

Twisting his features into a cruel sneer, he pushed a hand held taser into Pete’s side. Within moments, the young vampire lay unconscious at his feet.

“You better send someone to the gates,” he snarled into his radio. “There’s been an incident.”

*

His eyes fluttered open and the young man tried to stretch out his aching limbs only to find that impossible. Joe tried hard to focus his eyes and his mind, at first without much success, but within a few minutes he realised his predicament. Bound hand and foot, he found himself lying on a comfortable couch in a darkened but homely furnished room. Across from him, roughly ten feet away, a slender, pretty young woman with long dark hair, wearing a pale skirt and checked shirt watched him intently. In her hand she held a wooden stake.

“Who are you?” she asked, her expression a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. “What are you?”  
“W…what am I?” Joe stammered, all the while trying surreptitiously to free himself from the strips of cloth that bound his hands behind him.  
“I’ve seen those… things,” she replied with distaste. “I’ve seen them up close. I’ve… I know they’re not human.”

Joe pursed his lips and nodded slowly. He had to admire her. She showed such great courage and only occasionally giving away her true feelings of fear and doubt. He wanted to answer her questions, but he had so many of his own – not the least of which were, why was he tied up in her house and where were the others? 

“Vampires,” he finally explained solemnly. “They’re vampires.”

Part of him expected her to laugh at such a ridiculous idea, but the stake in her hands suggested that, deep down, she already knew.

“And you?” she prompted.  
“I’m…” he wondered if she would believe this as readily. “I’m a hunter.”

Raising her hand to her mouth, she considered the question carefully.

“You hunt them?”

Joe merely nodded in reply; there didn’t seem much else necessary. Besides, he had no idea how she was processing all this information. Perhaps she’d need longer and fewer complications. The less he said, the better.

“How?” she asked, frowning as she tried to take it all in. “What do you do?”  
“We have specialist equipment,” Joe explained vaguely. “If we can, we kill them.”  
“What kills them?”  
“You’re accepting this remarkably well!”  
“What kills them!” she repeated, louder this time.  
“Everything you’ve heard of,” Joe shot back. “Sunlight, decapitation, stake through the heart…”  
“Garlic? Crosses? Holy water?” she prompted.  
“No… well… it’s complicated.”   
“What specialist equipment? And you said ‘we’. Who’s we?”

She wanted a full explanation. Okay, Joe nodded to himself. Maybe the more she knew, the more likely she would understand and believe him. There was little he could do but try to answer her questions and hope that it would earn her trust and his freedom.

“We have Gatherers who report in when they find vampire groups. Sometimes we set traps, using ourselves as bait. Sometimes Pete…” 

Joe paused, panic stricken. What if she worked for Beckett? What if this was all a ruse to capture Pete? Beckett had tried before on several occasions. He made no secret of the fact that he hated that Pete had been able to defy him. Worse still, in Beckett’s mind, was that Pete had made a crusade of trying to make his would-be Master pay for what he had done to him. 

“Who’s Pete?” she asked quickly.

Joe stared back. She seemed genuine enough and her question seemed real but Joe’s own doubts and concerns prevented him from giving too much away.

“Who are you?” he finally asked. “You’ve got me tied up here asking me questions about our group. Why should I trust you?”  
“Because you’re tied up and don’t have many options!” she snapped back pushing herself to her feet. “What if I open the curtains and let the sun in? What happens to you?”  
“I may squint, but not much else,” Joe replied with a smile thankful that, at least for now, she had forgotten her question about Pete.

Pushing herself out of the chair, she edged her way slowly to the window, trying hard not to take her eyes off the bound young man lying on her couch.  
Joe could see from the way she moved that she was exhausted, but hopefully, her mind would rest at ease once she had drawn back the curtains.

As she pulled the heavy drapes back, sunlight flooded the room. Joe screwed up his eyes as the light hit him.

“You’re not a vampire then?”  
“No,” Joe replied. “If I were, I’d have snapped these ropes and killed you a long time ago.”  
“They’re that strong?” she asked in surprise.  
“Yeah. Look, do you think you could untie me?”   
“Who’s Pete?” she repeated her earlier question.

Joe frowned. How was he supposed to answer this?

“Pete is a friend, one of our group. He helps us.”  
“He’s a vampire.”

Joe could hear the uncertainty in her voice but felt strangely compelled to be honest with her.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “He was turned by one of the vampires that was there tonight. He wants revenge.”  
“They took him.”  
“What!” Joe cried in disbelief. “They… they’ve got him? What about Andy and Patrick?”   
“They arrested two other men,” she explained. “One had glasses, the other wore a hat.”  
“Arrested? But…”  
“They were vampires too.”  
“The police?”

Joe watched, fretful and stressed as the woman nodded silently.

“It was a trap,” the simple truth hit him with crushing force. “All along, it was a set up to get Pete and us too. How did they not get me?”  
“I arrived as you were being choked by one of them, I killed him, jammed a stake through his heart.”  
“How… where…? Joe stammered.  
“I found it on the floor,” she explained. “It must have been dropped by one of you. After I killed him, you passed out. I dragged you into an alley and waited until they’d gone.”  
“I can’t believe the others have been captured. Please, you have to let me go. I have to find them, help them!”  
“I want to help,” she announced unexpectedly.  
“Why?” Joe asked, relieved as she rose to untie him.  
“Because I was supposed to be sacrificed to them. I was to be Pete’s first kill. They held me and goaded him to attack me. But instead of biting me, he bit the one holding him. He saved my life. I owe him.”  
“Consider saving and releasing me as your debt paid,” Joe replied, sitting up and rubbing his wrists.  
“No,” she insisted. “I want to help. I want to help you all. My name’s Andrea Logan and I’m not afraid of them.”

Joe contemplated her brave but naive words.

“Then you better start. It’s the only way you’ll survive.”

 

*

 

Behind the curtains, the glass had been painted black with several coats. No light would get through these windows. As much as he kept his slaves and vampires under control, he was unwilling to take chances that might compromise his position as Master, nor threaten his life. A vampire for over one hundred and fifty years, he was endowed with powers the younger ones couldn’t even begin to imagine. The only one that even came close to having the power to overthrow him was Brendon. A vampire for the relatively short time of fifty-two years, Brendon was strong and quick-witted but Beckett knew how to handle him; when to be firm, when to give in and when to punish. The younger vampire had seen his share of punishment since Beckett turned him, but equally, he had enjoyed more than his fair share of pleasure. Brendon had been Beckett’s favourite from the beginning and he basked arrogantly in the glorious glow of his Master’s approval. Other vampires had opposed him and paid the price for it. He had long since decided that it was more than worth the punishment that Beckett handed out for the brash, and surprisingly frequent, slaughter of pretenders to his prince’s crown. He knew that, regardless of what he had done, Beckett would forgive him. His relationship with his master was frequently cruel and sadistic, but they both knew they enjoyed the game.

Beckett leaned back in his high-backed antique leather chair. Almost everything in the room was an antique, from the desk he sat behind to the Chinese wallpaper, to the bookcases and their contents. Modern touches, such as lighting and soft furnishings, favoured a late nineteenth century style. The only thing that appeared truly out of place in the Victorian-style office was the laptop computer opened on the desk. 

In life, William Beckett, had been a man of simple pleasures and elegant taste. He had been intelligent and resourceful, with a flair for business. All of this had carried through with him when he had been turned and although he preferred an older style as he looked around the mansion, he was a firm believer in making the best use of modern technology. Over the years, he had seen older vampires founder, confused and bewildered by the rush of technological advances, but he had been there at the start of the Industrial Revolution. He had witnessed for himself the very beginnings of advances in science and architecture. He had seen swift advancement, the greatness and power that it brought. And he wanted it. His mind made up, he would learn, he would use, he would control. That said, his natural aesthetic taste dictated that a laptop was the perfect solution to his needs. An indispensible tool that when not in use, could be hidden from view and would no longer spoil the classic lines of each carefully chosen piece of furniture.

“Enter,” he said brusquely as he closed the laptop and slid it into the top draw of the desk. Beyond the door, Brendon Urie stood with his arm raised, ready to knock. Beckett frequently knew when he was near; it was a technique he had developed to ensure that none of his vampires would be able to catch him unawares.

Looking up, Beckett offered an approving smile. Before him, Brendon stood in the centre of the room waiting to be called forward. Wearing a crisp cotton shirt, close-fitting dark pinstripe suit, cravat and highly-polished black shoes, Brendon knew he looked good.

Beckett motioned for him to approach, admiring him as he did. Beckett’s Coven was generally regarded as flamboyant and decadent. He personally had no problem with this. He saw it as a vampire’s duty to be beautiful. Beautiful, mysterious and deadly. The members of his Coven were chosen carefully. So carefully that when one managed to break from his control, it angered him greatly.

Brendon would be the last to acknowledge that Beckett controlled him, but he did. Brendon called him Master and whilst he had certain freedoms, he was always accountable and subservient to the Coven’s leader.

“Master William,” Brendon bowed his head reverently.

At every meeting, Beckett insisted that all his vampires, even Brendon, call him Master. With his favourite, it was only the initial greeting. From then, the meeting would usually proceed on an informal basis, but Beckett liked the stamp of authority. He liked to remind his subordinates exactly who was in charge.

“Brendon,” his smooth, velvety voice began, “please, sit down.”

Unbuttoning his jacket, Brendon took a seat at the desk.

“You know, of course that we have Peter back under our control.”  
Brendon pouted. “I wouldn’t say under control, but he’s here, yes.”  
Beckett narrowed his eyes. “Yes, he’s here. And under control in the sense that he’s chained up in the dungeon.”  
“Where he should have been from the start!” Brendon snapped.  
“Are you questioning me, Brendon?” Beckett asked sourly.

Rising from the chair, Brendon turned away, taking a few angry paces before spinning on his heels to stare at his master.

“He disobeyed you and you allowed it!” Brendon snapped. “Are you surprised that he turned on you and rejoined his damn hunter friends?”

He didn’t see it, barely felt it, but Brendon knew he’d gone too far when he found himself on all fours, crouched on the floor, nursing his bleeding bottom lip. Beckett was too fast even to be seen by another vampire.

“Master William!” he begged, trying to ingratiate himself and recreate Beckett’s easy temperament that he felt on his arrival. 

“Don’t get me wrong, Brendon,” Beckett snarled as his favourite pushed himself to his feet once more. “You are my second, but you will not touch Peter, or question me over my treatment of him.”  
“You… you care about this rogue vampire?” Brendon stammered. “He’s nothing! He’s less than nothing! What about…”  
“What about you?” Beckett snapped, rising from behind the desk once more and taunting him. “Do you fear for your position, Brendon?”

Standing to meet his master’s gaze, Brendon frowned.

“Do I need to?” he asked curtly.  
“I know you receive many challenges to your elevated role in my affections and I know what you do to deal with it. And then, when the challenger is dead, I punish then forgive you. Such a merry dance! But mark my words, Brendon, if you do anything like that with him, before I’m ready, your punishment will be severe and forgiveness will not be forthcoming. Your new rank will be lower than that of slave and I will take great pleasure in letting my slaves exact their own punishment on you each and every day!”  
“William… how can you…” Brendon began, at first shock winning out over anger.  
“I want him unharmed, Brendon. Do you understand me? Completely unharmed.”

Brendon stared down at his feet. He was angry, jealous, envious, furious! He had already suffered and this was not the time to argue more; Beckett’s mind was made. He had tried on a number of occasions to trap Pete. This was the first time he had been successful. If Brendon had given it enough thought, he would have known that this situation was… no, that Pete was special. It was how special that angered him.

“You want me to stay away?” Brendon shrugged, pretending to be unmoved. “I can do that,” he added with another feigned indifferent shrug.

Beckett grinned at Brendon’s suffering. He knew that, at the very least, Brendon wanted to torment his, as he saw it, rival for Beckett’s affections.

“Do what you will, but don’t kill him. Not unless you truly want to feel my anger.”  
“And his friends?” Brendon asked, more out of curiosity than interest.  
“For now,” Beckett shrugged, “I want to keep them alive. Peter seems to care if they live or die; we can use that. Keep them alive and mostly conscious, but what you do otherwise is your own affair.” Beckett raised a warning finger. “I just don’t want to hear that you went too far. Remember, they’re only mortals; they break easily.”

Brendon laughed cruelly at the idea of tormenting Wentz with tales of the torture of his friends.

“I can be surprisingly gentle,” Brendon smiled sweetly. “Shame they won’t see that side of me!”  
Beckett smiled at the cruelness, if overzealousness, of his prodigy. “Alive, Brendon, remember. I don’t make idle threats.”

Brendon nodded. He had to physically restrain himself severely with Wentz, but could at least torture him mentally. It was something, at least.

“Yes, William, I understand.”  
“I hope you do, Brendon.” Beckett’s smooth voice replied. “For your sake, I sincerely hope you do.”


	2. William Beckett and Brendon Urie visit their captives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William and Brendon gloat over their prisoners' fates

Andy was worried; but then, there was a lot to worry about. He and Patrick had been captured and imprisoned in Beckett’s mansion, Joe was missing and Beckett finally had what he had wanted for so long – Pete. But he would soon discover that there was more; something much more immediate than any of those things. Patrick still hadn’t regained consciousness.

Andy knew something was wrong when they were pushed up against the patrol cars and handcuffed. Patrick was leaning on the car, almost slumped over it. But when Patrick began to slip to the floor and had to be supported, it was all he could take.

“Hey!” Andy yelled, turning away from the car, only to be struck hard and painfully by a police baton between the shoulder blades.

The baton drove all the air from his lungs leaving Andy to gasp for breath as the searing pain ran through him like a hot knife.

“What have you done to him?” Andy demanded as soon as he had recovered; his reply was to have the baton jabbed deep into his side.

Grimacing with pain, Andy felt his knees buckle as they opened the patrol car door. Grabbed by his arms, Andy was in too much pain to struggle. With a self-satisfied laugh, the vampire police officer pushed his head down and forced him inside.

Through the corner of his eye, Andy saw Patrick drop unceremoniously to the floor. With his mouth poised to voice his concern, Andy’s eyes rolled back in their sockets as the baton connected sharply with his right temple. Slumping back against the opposite door, Andy succumbed to the blackness and slipped, unwillingly, into unconsciousness.

By the time he had woken, the handcuffs had been removed and he found himself lying on a cold stone floor. Looking up, he pushed the hair from his face, relieved to find that he was still wearing his glasses and that they were intact.

It was a cell. Grey stone walls glistened with water condensed from the humid stale air. The door seemed very out of place for what he imagined was the age of the building and purpose of the room. What should have been a solid oak door was solid steel with multiple locks. This wasn’t a cell designed for humans, Andy concluded, this was for vampires. Vampires like Pete.

Pushing himself into a sitting position, Andy looked around the grim prison. A few feet behind him, nearer to the wall, lay a crumpled form; a man dressed in black, his blond hair mostly obscured by a black peaked cap.

“Patrick!”

Scrambling to his feet, Andy half stumbled, half ran to his friend. Rolling him onto his back, Andy gasped in surprise at the deathly pallor in his friend’s face. Checking for a pulse, Andy breathed a sigh of relief when he found one, albeit faint.

“What did they do to you?” Andy questioned aloud.  
“I would have thought that was obvious.”

Still kneeling at Patrick’s side, Andy turned his head sharply. Standing in the cell, staring smugly at its two occupants, was Brendon. Ignoring Andy’s shocked expression, he casually adjusted the cuffs of his shirt to fall in an impeccable line with his suit jacket.

“Brendon!” Andy spat, his voice filled with anger and contempt.

The vampire revelled not only in the recognition, but also in the reaction it provoked.

“What have you done to him?” Andy repeated.

Brendon smirked, and cocking his head to one side motioned with his finger towards Patrick’s head. Flicking his finger to the right, he suggested that Andy tilt it. As he did, Andy reeled in shock as he noticed the multiple bite marks on his friend’s neck.

“You bastard!” Andy yelled.

Leaping to his feet, he launched himself at the grinning vampire. He wasn’t even certain how close he got, all he knew was that within moments he was hurtling back towards the wall. Every bone in his back jarred as he crashed against the cold stone wall. Falling face down on the floor, he gasped for breath as Brendon laughed at him.

“What was that?” Brendon managed between his loud, condescending laughter. “You don’t really think you can fight me, do you? You can’t even get near me! I’ll swat you like a fly. Do you understand? You’re our prisoners now and soon, our slaves. We like human slaves, a subservient walking buffet! When we get tired of you, we eat you!”  
“First chance I get, Brendon, I’m going to kill you for turning him!”  
“Woah!” Brendon raised his hands in reply. “Let’s get this right.”  
“You’re saying you didn’t turn him?” Andy asked hopefully.  
“Him?” Brendon spared Patrick a passing glance. “I don’t care what happens to him.”  
“Then… what…?”  
“Firstly, you won’t get a chance and second, I’m already dead.”  
“You’re undead!” Andy snapped trying, unsuccessfully, to push himself away from the wall.  
“You’re wasting your time trying to reach me again,” Brendon explained. “I can hold you there with just my mind, it’s no effort at all. Or I could crush you like a bug. Would you like to experience that?”

Before Andy could reply, Brendon was exerting his power over his mind and body. Gasping for breath as every muscle and bone was squeezed and compressed.

“Please!” came a weak voice. “Let him go!”

Brendon smirked with sadistic pleasure as Patrick begged him to release his friend from the deadly crushing grip.

“Looks like that’s answered your other question,” Brendon laughed conceitedly. “Not turned, just a little drained. Poor Patrick, I hear he tasted good. He’ll be mine before too long. I’m looking forward to drinking his sweet, hero’s blood.”  
“Don’t get too complacent, Brendon,” Patrick tried hard to push himself up but failed. “We’re stronger than you think.”  
“I hope you are,” Brendon chuckled. “Because the fight you’ve put up so far has been disappointing. Remember, there’s no one to save you this time. We have your pathetic-excuse-for-a-vampire friend chained up and locked in our strongest cell.”  
“So you are afraid of him?” Patrick replied, managing to finally sit up.  
“I’m afraid of no one!” Brendon snapped in reply.  
“You’re afraid of Beckett!” Patrick snapped back. “Ordered you to stay away from Pete, did he? Denied you your fun with him?”  
“Master William knows what he’s doing,” Brendon replied hesitantly, shaken by the comment.  
Patrick grinned; he knew he had Brendon on the defensive. “Yeah? But do you?”  
“Shut up!” Brendon screamed, unleashing a wave of kinetic power in Patrick’s direction.

Spinning backwards, Patrick crashed heavily against the wall. By the time he and Andy looked up, Brendon had vanished.

“How did you know what Beckett had said?” Andy asked as he made his way over to his weak and pain-racked friend.  
“I didn’t,” he admitted. “But I figured there was a reason that he was in here with us instead of with Pete.”  
“You think Beckett’s refused to let him torture Pete? Why?”  
“No,” Patrick corrected. “He’ll have refused to let Brendon kill Pete. To a vampire as power-hungry and insecure as Brendon, it’ll be proof that Beckett intends to make Pete his new favourite.”  
“That’s quite a leap!” Andy replied.  
“Not to Brendon.” Patrick shook his head, then wished he hadn’t. “He’s headed off so many attempts on his life, for want of a better word. All of them want to be Beckett’s favourite, and now he’s showing favour towards Pete. It must be driving Brendon nuts!”  
“I take it all back,” Andy smiled.  
“What?”  
“All those notes you kept on all the vampires we encountered. I never thought they’d be useful.”  
“They’re only useful if we can use them to get us and Pete out of here.” Patrick frowned before adding: “Where’s Joe?”  
Andy shook has head. “I don’t know, I just pray he got away.”

Patrick nodded; the alternative was unthinkable.

 

*

 

Brendon stood at the door to Pete’s cell. Momentarily he wondered why it was so far from his human friends - surely having them nearby to hear each other scream was much more satisfying? He turned his lips down in an angry scowl, his expression dripped of distaste at even the thought of ‘human friends’. Even the idea of friends was a difficult concept for a vampire of his age. The newer ones had recollections of friendship, but were able to cast it aside as unnecessary and weak. Brendon, a vampire for fifty-two years, had already completely eradicated the memory.

The closest thing a vampire had to a friend was another vampire that owed a debt of gratitude for a life saved. They worked together, killed together, sometimes even fed together, but rely on each other? Trust each other? Brendon didn’t even trust Beckett and he was damn sure that Beckett didn’t trust him.

Within their coven, friendship was weakness, reliance and trust eventually led to treachery and death. An intelligent vampire relied only on himself. An intelligent vampire survived.

And yet, here was Pete Wentz, a vampire with friends. Human friends! If he had spoken the words out loud, they would certainly have stuck in his throat. Humans were slaves or food, nothing more.

“Brendon!”  
“William?” Brendon turned, replying with an automatic deferential nod as the tall and elegantly dressed coven leader walked towards him with long purposeful strides.  
“Master William,” he corrected with an arrogant smile.

Brendon’s eyes widened and his lips parted slightly as if to speak, but the words were lost. Outside of his office, with the exception of meetings with other coven leaders and their seconds, Beckett had never before insisted that Brendon call him Master. Brendon’s mind raced. Was this because of Pete? Was he already relegated? It was humiliating, degrading and it was fuel for the fire.

“You… you want me to call you Master?” Brendon stammered, his eyes drawn towards the door and back.  
“You think you could manage that?” Beckett replied sarcastically.  
Brendon nodded, looking down as he spoke. “Yes, Master William.”

Beckett extended a slender finger and lifted Brendon’s chin forcing him to look at him. Beckett’s expression softened into a playful smile as his aide’s large brown eyes displayed the confusion and distress he felt.

“Brendon, it is necessary, trust me,” Beckett nodded as he spoke to reinforce the suggestion. “You do trust me, don’t you?”  
“Of course, Master,” Brendon lied. “But…”  
“When have I ever done anything to suggest that you couldn’t?” Beckett interrupted.

_Your obsession with re-capturing Pete!_   
_Favouring him over me!_   
_Ordering me to call you Master!_

“Never,” Brendon lied again.  
“Good,” Beckett nodded. “I want five minutes alone with Peter. When I’m ready, I will call you in.”  
“Alone? Why do you need to be in there alone?”

Beckett rolled his eyes and sighed heavily.

“Brendon, do you want to be punished? Again? I told you not to question me over my treatment of him and here you are again doing just that.”  
“I’m sorry, Will… Master William. I just don’t understand why…”  
“You don’t need to understand, you just need to follow orders. I don’t expect that to be a problem. Is it?”  
Brendon’s shoulders sagged. “No, Master.”  
“Good.”

Opening the door to Pete’s cell, Beckett smiled at his prize; he had waited for this for a long time. Closing the door behind him on a furious Brendon, Beckett stepped forward.

The cell was approximately twenty foot square and made of solid stone walls, floor and ceiling. No hidden panels, no secret doors. Whoever found themselves in one of Beckett’s cells was not expected to escape. Apart from the multi-locked six-inch thick reinforced steel door, a few feet into the cell were floor to ceiling bars. Each bar so thick that a hand couldn’t encircle it, each buried deep into the floor and ceiling. The larger section beyond was split lengthways by yet more bars so that two individual cells stood alongside each other with viewing access from the main door.

In the centre of each section, a barred door allowed access from one area to the next. Again a series of locks, this time electro-magnetic and operated remotely, kept both sides secure.

In one side, Pete Wentz sat, leaning up against the wall, heavily manacled at his wrists and ankles.

“Peter,” Beckett cooed. “It’s so good to have you back in the fold.”

Pete refused to even look at him. Bottling up all his anger and frustration, Pete kept his stare fixed firmly on the floor in front of him.

“Peter,” Beckett spoke with a controlled anger to his tone. “You have two choices. You return to us willingly and accept me as your master, or, I force you.”  
Pete glanced up at the words, frowning at Beckett’s infuriatingly smug expression. “You have no hold over me, you can’t force me.”  
“How!” Beckett suddenly screamed angrily. “How did you retain your will, your humanity?”

Pete smiled as Beckett lost his composure completely; it had taken so little time. It was as if Pete knew Beckett well, so well that he could easily find the words or actions to infuriate him. But in reality, the vampire who turned him was a mystery to Pete. From the moment he was bitten and abducted, Pete had refused to follow Beckett’s orders. Waking up to find himself a vampire had been a harrowing experience for him. He was painfully aware that others woke, pleased with their new existence. Accepting of their evil and gleeful at the thought of being part of one of the most sophisticated, respected and feared covens. But not him. He didn’t know why, he didn’t care why, but he was glad. Escaping from Beckett hadn’t been easy, but he had managed it. He had done it once, he could do it again.

“I don’t know,” Pete replied quietly inspecting the chains around his wrists, searching for weaknesses. “Why do you care?”  
Beckett frowned. “Because of you, other coven leaders are laughing at me. Once I have you back under my control, everything…”  
“I was never under your control!” Pete yelled back pushing himself to his feet and approaching the bars as far as the chains would allow. “You’re deluding yourself!”  
“I know how you escaped control,” Beckett replied smugly. “How you continue to deny your vampirism.”

Pete tilted his head back slightly, frowning at the words; did Beckett really know or was he bluffing?

“Oh yes!” Beckett’s assumed superiority and arrogance flooded back at Pete’s reaction. “I know how you evaded your first drink of blood. The one thing over you that I entrusted to Brendon and he failed me. To this day he doesn’t realise that I know you didn’t drink the blood he gave you. That first drink is vitally important to a freshly turned vampire, and Brendon is as much aware of that as I am. I believe that first drink is why you managed to evade my control. His failure has made me look foolish and I don’t like it.”  
“You expect me to care?” Pete laughed at the idea.  
“No,” Beckett smiled smugly and shook his head lightly.

Pete’s laugh faded with Beckett’s new expression. He smiled like a man who held all the cards, which, Pete realised, on reflection, he did.

“I know how you fought against making your first kill and escaped back to your hunter friends. I know how your little friend makes you drinks from animal blood, tempered with garlic and holy water to weaken the bloodlust in you.”  
“How do you know?” Pete yelled suddenly fearing the possibility that there was a spy within their group feeding information back to Beckett. Was that how the trap had been laid for them?  
Beckett smiled. “I have my sources and I have your two hunter friends here.”  
“Two?” Pete frowned deeper. “You mean three?”  
Beckett’s self-satisfied smile broadened into an equally smug grin. “Joe is not your friend,” he laughed, cruelly implanting the idea that Joe had betrayed them.  
“No!” Pete pulled furiously on the chains. “You’re lying! You’re lying! Joe would never do that!”  
Beckett laughed. “Believe what you like, if it makes you feel better to deny the truth.”  
“No!”

Pete lowered his head, angry and confused. Even though he truly wanted to believe that Beckett was lying to him, he couldn’t see a motive. Beckett had him, he had Patrick and Andy too. What did it matter what Pete believed about Joe?

“Separated from your concoctions, your bloodlust will increase hour by hour. Soon, your craving will overtake you. You won’t be able to control yourself, and you will drink.”

Pete’s brow furrowed at the words, which he knew to be true. Without Patrick’s blend, he was helpless against his bloodlust and with no blood at all, not even animal blood, his thirst would deepen. He feared being out of control more than anything.

“The second cell,” Beckett waved his arm in a sweeping gesture to indicate the adjacent cell, “this is to house your first meal.”  
“You… you can’t be serious?” Pete looked up, his eyes wide with fear. “You’re gonna put a human in there and wait until I can’t stop myself?”  
Beckett smiled cruelly. “Not just any human. Your group’s intrepid leader.”  
“P… Patrick! No, please! I’ll join you! I’ll call you Master, anything, everything, but please don’t make me do that!”  
“You will join me, you will call me Master and you will kill Patrick!”


	3. Pete's bloodlust increases

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete takes measures to stop himself from killing Patrick and Joe and Andrea attempt a rescue

Without needing to say a word, Beckett invaded Brendon’s thoughts and ordered him to enter the cell. As he pushed the door open once more, much of his anger dissipated as he saw Pete, locked in the sturdy cage, shackled to the wall and plainly scared. He didn’t know what Beckett had said or done, but it had knocked the fight out of him and it was more than enough to draw a satisfied smile from his lips. 

“What’s the matter, Wentz?” he smirked. “You don’t look your usual over-confident self. Master William, have you been frightening our guest?”

Beckett sneered, happy to let Brendon enjoy a few minutes of pleasure at Pete’s expense.

“I’m afraid that’s exactly what I’ve done, but I’m going to rely on you to calm him.”  
“Calm him?” Brendon’s doubts flooded back at the suggestion, but they didn’t last long.

Raising a remote control device, Beckett silently pressed a button. Pete glanced urgently over his shoulder as he felt a tug on the chains around his wrists and ankles. Slowly but surely, each of the chains were being reeled in; inch by inch, until finally Pete was held firmly against the wall. No amount of pulling or struggling made any difference. It felt bad enough that he was locked up and chained, but this new development brought him whole new degrees of fear. Unable to move, he was helpless against whatever they had planned and the expressions on their faces told him that he wasn’t going to like it.

“Brendon,” Beckett began, his eyes not moving from Pete as he spoke. “We will be feeding our guest soon, but he doesn’t seem to have much of an appetite.”

Pete’s eyes widened at the words and the grimace and pain etched on his face displayed the level of effort with which he now tried to struggle free of the chains. Beckett shook his head and waited, eventually laughing smoothly as Pete finally gave in to exhaustion. Glistening with sweat and gasping for breath, the young vampire, turned hunter, gazed with a mixture of hate and fear at his captors. They were in no hurry, and were more than happy to wait for Pete to realise that they were completely in control. 

“There is no escape for you this time, Peter,” Beckett gloated. “You should accept that, it’ll be much easier for you that way.”

Pete’s expression became a mixture of dread and concern as, at the press of another button, the door to his side of the cell slid back allowing Beckett and Brendon to enter.

“Now Brendon, I’m sure our guest would like to make room for his meal, don’t you think?”

Brendon’s smirk grew wide, displaying his long, razor sharp fangs. Moving closer to his chained prey, Brendon reached up and seized a handful of Pete’s hair, before pulling his head to one side, exposing his neck. All the while, Pete fixed him with a defiant glare.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” Brendon hissed with a broad grin demonstrating his delight and eagerness to cause Pete any pain he could.  
“Not too much, Brendon,” Beckett warned. “We want our guest hungry, not dead.”  
“Yes, Master,” Brendon replied automatically but barely registering the words. 

His eyes had already glazed in his desire to make Pete suffer. Leaning in, Brendon delighted in the huff of pain that Pete released as his fangs pieced Pete’s pale skin. Instead of allowing the blood to flow naturally into his mouth, Brendon sucked on the vein, deepening the wounds and intensifying Pete’s anguish. Beneath him, Pete writhed with agony, unable to pull away but refusing him the satisfaction of a cry or scream. To Brendon’s delight, Beckett said nothing and merely looked on with an approving smile. If there was one thing upon which Beckett could rely with his enthusiastic Second, it was cruelty.

“Enough,” Beckett interrupted as Pete’s knees began to sag.

Brendon wanted more; he wanted to suck out every last drop of his rival’s blood, but he didn’t dare disobey Beckett again. Licking the last remnants of blood from his lips, Brendon pulled back and watched with a satisfied smirk as Pete slumped, held upright only by the chains. Stepping forward, Beckett pulled Pete’s head back and couldn’t help but smile as his eyes rolled in their sockets. Signalling to Brendon to follow him, Beckett left the cell and watched as the door slid shut behind him and his aide. Pressing a third button on the remote, Beckett and Brendon watched almost impassively, as the manacles around Pete’s wrists and ankles clicked open and Pete slipped silently to the floor.

“What next, Master William?” Brendon asked eagerly.

Opening the door of the adjacent cell that led to the viewing area, once more using the remote device, Beckett pressed the small black box into Brendon’s palm.

“This is the part you’ll really like, Brendon,” Beckett smirked. “Fetch his hunter friend, Patrick and place him in the cell opposite Peter. When he can’t bear the bloodlust any longer, open the adjoining door.”

Brendon’s eyes widened with his smile.

“You’re going to make him kill Patrick?” he asked impressed at even Beckett’s cruelty.  
“Indeed, I am,” Beckett grinned in return. “Very possibly the quickest and simplest way to break him.”  
“And cruellest,” Brendon added.  
Beckett’s lips turned up at the ends as he noticed the delight in Brendon’s eyes.

“Of course, but, I’m sure I’m not the only one here who believes that he deserves it.” Beckett paused as he placed a finger on his aide’s chest. “But, Brendon, and trust me, this is much more important than you may realise, don’t fail me on this.”  
“I’ll see to it, Master William. I won’t fail, I assure you.” Brendon agreed with a broad and eager smile.  
“William, Brendon, you may now call me William again.”

*

Beyond the mansion, hidden in the bushes, Joe and Andrea crouched low and stared up at the main gates.

“You’re telling me that that mansion’s full of vampires?” Andrea whispered.  
“Yeah,” Joe replied quietly, his eyes roaming the grounds looking for a possible way in.  
“And we’re doing this at night?” Andrea paused, waiting for a reply she didn’t receive. “Why, exactly?  
“It’s easier not to be seen at night,” Joe explained with irritation clear in his tone.  
“Who by?” Andrea whispered in return. “If their senses are as heightened as you say, isn’t now like daylight for them?”

Joe found himself turning to look at the pretty brunette at his side. Drawing his lips into a thin line, he allowed his shoulders to fall.

“Yeah,” he finally admitted. “But I don’t want to wait, they could be doing anything to the guys in there. If they’re even still…”  
“Alive?”

Joe turned sharply; steadying himself as he almost lost his balance. Standing over them was the surviving vampire police officer that had brought Pete to the mansion. The vampire’s eyes widened as, looking down, he briefly caught sight of the Net Gun that Patrick had rigged up for their group. Without a moment’s hesitation, Joe had pulled the trigger. Unlike the night before, the equipment worked flawlessly, firing out a self-sealing net that clung to the vampire’s body. Flashes of blue and yellow light crackled along the thin but deceptively strong fibres. Within the net, the vampire crumpled to the ground, shaking as if he were having seizures.

“What’s that?” Andrea asked recovering from the shock of being discovered and Joe’s quick response.  
“One of Patrick’s toys,” he replied quickly resetting the mechanism and pushing himself to his feet. Stretching a hand down to help Andrea stand, Joe urged her with his eyes to hurry. “Come on! They’ll see that!”  
“Where to?” she asked hurriedly, following him back down the small hill to her car.  
Taking another look up at the mansion, Joe frowned deeply with frustration and concern.

“Around the back,” he spoke quietly, more out of uncertainty than fear of discovery. “We’re no good to them captured or dead. We have to find another way in.”  
“Well… they won’t be expecting us to come now.”   
“If they find that cop, they’ll know exactly where we are,” Joe frowned, annoyed with himself for not thinking about it sooner.  
“Well, what if we…”

Andrea was cut off as a dazzling bright light was shone in their eyes. 

“Damn it!” Joe snapped as he used a hand to shield himself from what he know realised was a searchlight trained on them.  
“There!” came a call from above them.  
“Get in!” Joe demanded. “Drive!” 

Turning towards the passenger side, Joe almost walked directly into the punch. Reeling backwards over the hood of the car, Joe raised his weapon and hoped it would be enough to scare off his attacker. Behind him, the crash of glass and the scream could only mean that Andrea was being attacked. Resisting the urge to look over his shoulder, Joe fired off another net, enmeshing the vampire who had struck him. Now turning, he saw two more; one approaching him and another trying to pull Andrea from the car.

“Start the engine!” he yelled. 

Twisting around to land a forceful kick into the chest of his attacker, temporarily disabling him, Joe pulled a stake from his pocket and lunged towards him to finish the job. Before the dust had fallen, Joe had turned a full one-eighty and was driving the stake into the third vampire’s back. 

“Start the engine!” he yelled again as he looked up to see more approaching.

Sliding across the hood, Joe was relieved to hear the engine fire up. Andrea reached across and opened the door as he neared it.

“Get in!” she screamed.

Not even stopping to remove the Net Gun from around his neck, Joe dived in and Andrea sped off, the wheels spinning and kicking up loose gravel in their hurry to leave. 

Turning to look out of the rear window, Joe could see a line of four vampires standing in the road, merely staring back. Looking forward again, he was relieved to see the road ahead was clear.

“That was close,” he muttered, still breathless from the attack.  
“Close? Really? You think so?” Andrea snapped in return. “I told you that was a bad idea!”  
“If you don’t want to do this, that’s fine, just drop me off and I’ll do it on my own!” Joe barked back.  
“I do! I told you I do! I just don’t want to get us killed!”  
“You think I want that?” Joe raised both his pitch and his eyebrows at her reply.  
“No,” she replied suddenly calm – the unexpected change forcing him to listen to her. “But you are going the right way to make it happen.”

Joe sighed. She was right. He had reacted from the heart, not the head; Patrick was always telling him the same thing.

“We need to go back home, my home. I need more equipment and Patrick’s notes. We’ll come back at dawn, and we’ll be ready for them this time.

*

Pete opened his eyes slowly. He felt weak, drained, hungry. The first sensation that filled his senses was the smell of blood; sweet, warm and inviting. Licking his lips in his thirst, he tried to block out the overpowering and intoxicating scent.

“Pete?”

Pete closed his eyes tightly. 

No.  
No.  
NO!

Pushing himself to his knees, Pete glanced over to the source of the sound. In the adjoining cell stood Patrick, right up against the bars. Pete could see the concern on his face for his vampire friend, he could also see the multiple bite marks on Patrick’s neck and wrists, releasing the warm scent even more. 

“Get away from the bars,” Pete croaked out.  
“Pete, are you all right?” Patrick sounded even more concerned by his reply.  
“Trick, you can’t trust me!” Pete begged him to understand, his eyes filled with apprehension and fear. “I’m hungry. They drained me. I don’t know how long I can control myself.”

Shocked at the words, Patrick stumbled back away from the bars, all too aware that a door separated them. A door that he knew, without question, Beckett would open at the height of Pete’s suffering.

 

*

 

“Pete…” Patrick began hesitantly as, still on his knees, his friend edged his way to the farthest corner of the cell. Drawing his legs up to his chest, Pete crossed his arms over his legs and lowered his head.

“Pete,” Patrick called again. “Let me help you.”  
“You can’t,” Pete mumbled back gruffly. “Just get as far from me as you can.”  
“I’m not frightened, let me help.”

Pete shook his head miserably. “I’m serious! Stay away, you can’t trust me.”  
“You won’t bite me,” came the confident reply.

He didn’t even catch a glimpse of movement. Let alone have a chance to react. Pete used his vampire speed to reach the bars so fast it was almost as if he had simply appeared there. Reaching through the bars, he seized Patrick’s jacket and pulled him forward.

“I would have thought you, of all people, would understand!” Pete yelled at him.   
“I do… at least I’m trying to,” Patrick replied, still trying to sound confident despite Pete’s reaction.  
“Without your blend I can’t stop the bloodlust. Brendon drained me!” Pete displayed the marks on his neck that were now almost healed. “I’m not just hungry, I’m starving! I have the worst craving ever and your blood is all I can smell. It’s intoxicating, like a drug and…” Pete pulled him closer still, his voice dropping to a whisper. “… and, I want it. Now do you understand?”  
“But you won’t, I know you won’t,” Patrick insisted causing Pete to throw his head back in frustration.  
“You don’t know!” he cried before returning his gaze back to his friend, his voice now lower and cheerless. “Even I don’t know that!”  
“You were doing most of it on your own anyway!” Patrick argued, trying not to show his concern at being held so close to Pete in his condition. “The blend was failing.”

Releasing Patrick and stepping away from the bars, Pete turned his back on his friend and folded his arms.

“Yeah, and now I know why.”  
“Why?” Patrick asked quietly. “Did I get it wrong?”  
Pete shook his head before turning to face his friend.   
“No,” he sighed. “The priest, Father McLynn…”  
“Yeah?” Patrick prompted after a long pause.  
“He’s a vampire too now,” Pete sighed and looked away again. “It wasn’t Holy Water, it was just water.”  
“That’s good, Pete, don’t you see? You were almost doing it all yourself! You can resist this!”

Rushing forward so fast as to be a mere blur to Patrick’s eyes, Pete slammed his hands on the bars with enough force to break a normal man’s bones.

“I can’t! I want blood with every single aching inch of my body. Your blood, Trick, I want your blood! Don’t you get that? It smells so…” Pete tilted his head back. “Uhn… this is killing me! It’s only a matter of time. Why can’t you understand?”

Patrick moved closer, standing now within inches of the bars, a glazed expression fixed on his face.

“What are you doing?” Pete asked, confused by Patrick’s behaviour. “I told you… get away from me!”

Waiting a few moments and watching as Patrick merely stared, unmoving and silent in reply, the dreadful truth dawned on the distressed vampire.

“Oh, fuck! It’s me! Patrick! Come on, snap out of it! Come on!” Pete yelled. 

Unaware of his own power, Pete’s craving had transposed itself onto Patrick, manipulating his mind; reducing him to nothing more than a submissive and willing victim.

“Trick!” Pete tried again, unsure of how he was exacting control over his friend, both unwillingly and unknowingly.

Receiving no response and drawing closer, Pete could see the exposed jugular vein on Patrick’s already scarred neck. Pete’s breathing came to him in short, irregular bursts. Already light-headed from Brendon’s attack, Pete’s mind swirled with the heady scent of the familiar and intoxicating blood. So close! So close! Running his hand lightly down Patrick’s cheek, Pete’s eyes glazed as the need overwhelmed him. Gently pulling Patrick towards him, Pete licked his lips before closing his eyes.

*

Joe led Andrea into the warehouse he and his three friends called home. Leaving her at the entrance and virtually ignoring her, he went in search of equipment for the return to the mansion.

Looking around, she could see that the large warehouse was nothing like its dilapidated exterior suggested. Inside, she could see that some areas had been turned into offices, others probably sleeping areas. Four large steel cabinets were now unlocked and open, housing a wealth of equipment, which currently had Joe’s full attention.  
Near the back of the warehouse she could see what, at first glance looked like a gym, but beyond that, were boards displaying human shapes which she knew must be for target practise.

“You live here?” she asked quietly.  
“Yeah,” Joe replied glancing back briefly. “Come in. We live here, eat, sleep, work, train and play.”  
“Play?”  
“Yeah!” Joe stood up once more and grinned at her. “We’re a rock band, it’s like our cover. But we’re good!”  
“I’d like to hear you,” she smiled back at him.  
“Yeah? Well, when we get the guys back, you can.”  
“Pete lives here too?” 

Joe frowned. He knew it must be hard for someone to get to grips with the idea of sharing a living arrangement with a vampire. They had all had to deal with it themselves when he had been turned. But deal with it they did and now, well now it didn’t seem strange any more. The only thing that reminded them of the potential danger was his insistence that they keep him locked up during the day. Each of them thought it unnecessary, but Pete never wanted to risk it; not where his friends were concerned.

“Yeah, he lives here,” he replied easily, turning back to the cabinet to retrieve a few more things. “Ever used a taser?” he asked with his back still turned to her.  
“No.” she admitted, trying to keep a brave face after the shock of what had happened back at the mansion.  
“There’s nothing to it,” Joe replied returning and pushing a baton with two short metal prongs at the end into her hand. “You switch it on here,” he pointed, “and stick it on them, doesn’t matter where. A few seconds and they’re out, ok?”

Andrea nodded as she took it in.

“We’ll need stakes and a cross can be useful. We can use some of Pete’s Holy Water too.”  
“Pete has Holy Water?” she asked taken aback by the idea.  
“Yeah and garlic, tons of garlic, probably why he’s so grouchy all the time and why he brushes his teeth about ten times a day... night.”   
“I thought…”  
“It weakens him.”  
“I saw him fight, he didn’t look weak to me,” Andrea replied.

Joe pursed his lips as he considered his reply. 

“Not physically, it weakens his bloodlust.”  
“You mean he still wants blood and you stay with him?”  
“I told you it was complicated!”  
“So how does he keep himself from biting you?”  
“Patrick makes him these shakes, animal blood, garlic, holy water. He has them about three times a night. A big blender full, he really gets through the garlic. He has to be careful with the Holy Water though, too much burns him,” Joe explained as he continued to fetch equipment.  
“Hmm.”  
“What?” Joe asked sensing something was wrong.  
“So these shakes, he won’t have had them since they captured him?”  
“No,” Joe stopped collecting the packs of wooden bullets for the special guns Patrick had designed. “He’ll be dangerous, I don’t know how much. But,” he twirled the taser baton in his hand, “that’s why we have these.”   
“How do you plan to get him out?” Andrea asked with a frown. “It’ll be daylight.”  
“Body bag,” Joe held up a black plastic folded square. “No light gets through this. We pop him with the taser and carry him out. Are you sure you want to do this? No one would blame you or think any less of you for backing out now.”  
“No, I told you, I want to help. After what he did, it’s the least I can do.”

Joe smiled in admiration of her bravery. Thrown into a world that most people would rather not know about, she was showing remarkable courage.

“It’s getting light. Let’s go.”

*

“No!” Pete screamed, pushing back and staggering away from the bars pressing his palms to his temples.

The sudden noise and movement was enough to rouse Patrick from his trancelike state. Unexpectedly finding himself back at the bars again was disturbing enough, but then to see an obviously anguished Pete, standing in the middle of the cell, covering his face with clenched fists was sufficient to make him realise finally that Pete was serious. Deadly serious.

“I nearly…” Pete couldn’t bring himself say the words.

Fumbling with his belt buckle, Pete slid the studded leather belt out of the loops and handed it to Patrick. Offering his hands either side of one of the bars, Pete turned pleading eyes to his friend.

“Tie me up! Do it tight, real tight.”  
“Will it… be strong enough?” Patrick asked hesitantly.  
“Don’t ask questions,” Pete replied through gritted teeth. “Just do it, while you still can.”

Wrapping the thick leather belt around Pete’s wrists, his first shock came when Pete yelled furiously at him.

“Tighter!”  
“But…”  
“Tighter, Trick, just do it! Please!”

Pulling at the strap with all his strength, Patrick knew he had reached the point that Pete would be satisfied when he saw his brow furrow in pain.

“Is that okay?” he asked not wishing to hurt his friend.  
“The tighter the better,” Pete replied through clenched teeth. “The safer.”

With a final tug, Patrick looped the ends around twice before threading the end of the belt through the buckle. Lowering his grip on the strap to obtain as much leverage as possible, Patrick pulled hard to get the prong through the last hole. Already Pete’s hands were tingling and numbing, but it would be worth it if it were strong enough to hold him.


	4. William Beckett Was Once Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William Beckett's past and Joe and Andrea start another rescue attempt

William Beckett found many ways to emphasise his leadership status. On hunts, he always walked in front, and not a drop of blood would be spilt until he gave the signal. He liked to be called Master, even when he wasn’t present. But some things were subtle reminders of his status – like the fact that only he had his own office. No matter how high-ranking a member of his coven, Beckett kept the luxuries for himself and himself alone. There were many communal rooms in the mansion; dozens of rooms that, for the most part, lay idle and empty. Each vampire, even Brendon, was expected to find his own solitude and hope that it was respected. If it was, it was by chance. With the sheer quantity of rooms, it was possible to find privacy and remained undiscovered, but, somehow, it was rare.

Brendon sat alone in what would once have been a drawing room. He wasn’t old enough to remember such things in day-to-day use, but Beckett was. Beckett’s family had been rich, remarkably so, even for their day. This had been their home. William had been a boy in this house and grown into a handsome, intelligent and astute young man. Then came that one fateful night when everything was turned inside out and his world changed forever.

Brendon was fairly certain that Beckett had never told anyone else the tale of how he had been turned. But, the memory of it left Brendon in no doubt why all of Beckett’s coven were handpicked. Chosen for their handsome, classic features and timeless good looks; it was as if he were reliving it over and over again. Now as he sat alone in the drawing room, Brendon found himself unable to stop himself remembering Beckett’s words.

_The first I knew of it was a crash as a water jug was thrown with such violence across what I realised immediately was my parent’s room, smashing against the wall into a thousand tiny pieces. I was awake in an instant, and out of bed before it even registered that there could be danger. The curtains in my room were open, but it was a new moon and so dark, I could barely see a hand in front of my face._

_I could hear screaming and crying, the household was awake but as I made my way into the darkened corridor, I was surprised to find myself alone. There was an uneasy stillness to the air and I knew something was very wrong._

_Suddenly, I could hear nothing, no more crying or screaming and it frightened me. I’d never felt such an unnatural stillness. As my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, I saw… and I remember the horror of seeing, one of our maids lying lifeless at the top of the stairs._

_One by one, I found the bodies; their neck’s torn and mutilated. It was all I could do not to be violently sick; they were my family and all our servants – everyone! I was alone in the house, or that’s how it seemed. I’d searched everywhere and all I’d found were bodies. I found the last of them, my father’s manservant downstairs near the main door. I imagine he was the first to die. There was a discarded doctor’s bag next to his body. I guessed that whoever had killed my family had pretended to be a doctor on call to someone in the household._

_All I could think of was that, whoever it was, he had killed everyone I had ever loved and then left without a trace. Luck or cruel fate would leave me alive to face the world alone. I couldn’t have been more wrong. I sank to my knees, my eyes filling with salt water as the full realisation of what had happened finally hit me._

_“Don’t cry.”_

_Still on my knees, I turned and looked up, raising my hands defensively, but my tear-filled eyes barely allowed me to see._

_“You’re too beautiful to cry.”_

_Wiping the tears from my eyes, I scrambled to my feet and took several steps back._

_“Who are you?”_

_In my terror, it was all I could manage. He merely stared at me, lovingly, as if I was his son and he was proud._

_“I’ve been watching you. You are perfect. You will join me.”_   
_“You… you killed my family!”_   
_“It was necessary. Soon you won’t even think about them.”_   
_“Who are you!”_

_It was the last thing I remember. He exerted some sort of control over me that I wasn’t able to understand or master for a long time._

_The next thing I was aware of, was waking in another large house, but run down and dark. I didn’t know how long I’d been unconscious but when I woke, I saw the sun peeking over the horizon. At first I thought it was dawn, but the time was the least of my worries. I found myself on a luxurious four-poster bed, lying on satin and silk sheets and quilts with a sheer material hanging from the frame. They seemed more decorative than functional, but it all added to the overwhelming sense of decadence. Unfortunately for me, that wasn’t the extent of my disorientation. As I tried to sit up, I found myself almost jerked back down again as I realised that my wrists were chained to the bed frame. Whoever this man was, whatever he wanted from me, he was determined to get it._

_Only then did I realise that the sun wasn’t rising, it was setting. I had lain unconscious for almost twenty-four hours. Within minutes, it was dark and he was there again. Now I know it was simple vampire speed that created the illusion of a sudden entrance, but I was scared. I didn’t know who, or what, he was, but as he drew closer and displayed his fangs to me, I realised the impossibility of what I was seeing. I didn’t want to believe it, didn’t see how it could be true, but as he leaned in, he whispered to me._

_“You are beautiful. You will remain forever beautiful. You will join us my pretty one, you will be free of fear and guilt forever. You are above it all now. You live, if I let you, only by abiding to my rules.”_

_Leaning in closer, his fangs pierced my skin and I found myself sinking backwards, unable to even stay awake, let alone fight him. And within moments I was as I still am, a vampire._

_His coven was special, beautiful, a class above the rest. But they were hunted. While most slept, the building was burnt down at dawn. Anyone not consumed in the fire was killed by sunlight. A handful of us escaped to the sewers to hide. I came back here, reclaiming my inheritance and started my own coven. Each member, perfect, specially selected, beautiful, like you._

_The pain of that night is lost on me now. Not through time, but simply the effects of vampirism, removing remorse, guilt and sorrow. But I’m glad for it, because I’m free. Free to enjoy any whim that catches my interest._

*

“Oh!” Spencer remarked with surprise to see anyone still awake so close to dawn. Pulling Brendon from his reverie, he continued: “What are you doing here?”  
“What do you think I’m doing?” Brendon snapped irritably.  
“Well,” Spencer smirked as Brendon continued to stare at the hunting and fighting equipment seized at the time of Andy and Patrick’s capture. “It looks like you’re staring at a sword.”

Brendon frowned, realising with annoyance that that was exactly what it looked like.

“I’m thinking,” he finally clarified.  
“Yeah,” Spencer nodded, smiling maliciously. “If I were in your shoes, I’d be worried too.”

It was enough to command Brendon’s attention and his head snapped up at the words.

“I didn’t say I was worried, I said I was thinking!”

Spencer shrugged with feigned innocence as he started to walk away.

“Well, “ he sighed, “maybe you know more than I do?”  
“What?” Brendon eyed him suspiciously. “What do you know?”  
“Only what I hear,” he replied casually as he made for the door.

It was enough to tease Brendon’s insecurities and in moments Brendon held him by the throat, pinned up against the wall.

“What do you know?” he yelled at the still smirking Spencer.  
“Master William plans to break Wentz, get him under his control once and for all.”

Pulling his hand away and releasing the lower ranking vampire, Brendon gave a contemptuous laugh.

“Tell me something I don’t know!” he snapped with another derisory laugh.  
“Well, I’m guessing you don’t know that he’s your replacement?”

Brendon’s smirk fell in an instant. Could it be true? William had behaved strangely towards him lately. Beckett had arranged for Pete to kill Patrick and he suspected that Andy would either be killed or be forced to work as a slave, perhaps even to Pete, to break them both. Could it be true? Would Beckett even admit it if it were?

“Where did you hear that?” Brendon’s voice shook slightly with uncertainty.  
“Scared, Brendon?” Spencer mocked him, deliberately refusing to answer. “You should be!”

In a rage, Brendon stormed from the room, shoving the vampire aside, his mocking laughter ringing loudly in his ears. Brendon had no clue what to do with this information, but it had touched on his deepest fear; he couldn’t just ignore it.

 

*

 

Patrick stood with his back pressed against the cell wall, as far from Pete as he could manage. Keeping, or at least trying to keep his eyes diverted, in the hope that his mind couldn’t be manipulated. As far as he could tell, Pete had a power that neither of them truly understood and one that Pete had no apparent control over.  
  
Pulling and straining on the belt wrapped tightly around his wrists, Pete grunted his frustration as he found it strong enough, at the moment, to hold him. His craving was growing rapidly and the scent of Patrick’s blood filled the air, his senses and his every thought.  
  
“Let me go!” Pete yelled; his eyes rolling as his need took a stronger hold. “Get this off me!”  
“No,” Patrick whispered, pained to see his friend in such distress, but at the same time unwilling to risk his life by doing as he asked.   
  
Pete glared harshly, forgetting himself, forgetting his friendship. His thoughts consumed only by the need for blood; Beckett’s plan was working perfectly.  
  
“Get this off me!” Pete repeated, growling in a low voice.  
  
Patrick turned his eyes slowly towards his friend, finally making eye contact. It was a mistake, even as he did it, he knew it was a mistake, but something compelled him.  
  
“That’s right,” Pete smiled, still staring. “Come here,” he ordered.  
  
Patrick edged forward slowly, unwillingly. There seemed little he could do to prevent it. This time he was prepared and his conscious mind knew exactly what was happening, but it was as if he was no longer in charge of his own body.  
  
“Come on, Patrick,” Pete urged, grinning as he drew closer, clearly afraid. “Only a few more feet and… and…”  
  
Pete blinked a few times before sinking to his knees.  
  
“Come on… come…” he slurred angrily as Patrick broke free of the hypnotic mind control and stepped back a few paces. “Wh… what…?”  
“Dawn,” Patrick replied, relieved as Pete slumped against the bars.  
  
As a young vampire of less than two years, Pete was, as yet, unable to stay awake beyond dawn. Even though he was in an underground dungeon with no way of knowing what time of day it was, the effect of the sunrise still affected him. It was as if the dawn was part of his body clock and as the sun rose, so he fell into a deep sleep. Even so, Patrick knew better than to approach him even as he slept.

  
  
*

  
Beckett looked up and frowned. He had a lot of work to do yet and it was already dawn. The last thing he needed had already approached his office and was knocking vigorously on the door. He had sensed Brendon’s arrival and the anxiety that came with him; he was in no mood to pander to Brendon’s issues.  
  
“Not now, Brendon,” Beckett called irritably. “Tomorrow, I’ve got…”  
  
Before Beckett even managed to finish his sentence, Brendon had entered the room. By way of apology for disobeying he dropped to one knee a few feet inside, his head bowed.  
  
“Master, I’m sorry, I can see that you’re busy but I… I needed to speak to you.”  
  
Beckett’s anger diffused, unexpectedly, even to him. There was something desperate about Brendon’s pleading. Something had shaken him to the core. Perhaps it was important?  
  
“Master, I know I have no right to ask this…” Brendon paused. All his bravado gone now that he was kneeling in front of Beckett, about to ask the question he feared the most.  
  
Beckett noticed that Brendon continued to call him ‘Master’; something was, indeed very wrong – at least in Brendon’s eyes.  
  
“Go on,” Beckett encouraged, more out of curiosity than caring.  
“I… what are your plans for Wentz?” Brendon remained on one knee, looking down at the floor. “After he’s broken, I mean.”  
“He will join the Coven, as he was always meant to,” Beckett explained briefly. If he knew what Brendon was alluding to, he made no mention of it.  
“At what rank?” Brendon asked looking up, somehow becoming a little bolder than he thought he was able.  
  
Beckett rose and walked slowly from behind the desk and beckoned with a finger for Brendon to come closer. Rising from his knees, Brendon moved forward, thankful to have his master’s full attention.  
  
“We have discussed this, have we not?” Beckett said dryly.  
“Master?”  
“I distinctly remember telling you, on more than one occasion, not to question me over this and merely to do as I asked. Have you done that?”  
“No, Master William,” Brendon lowered his eyes.  
“And why not?” Beckett asked, giving his Second a chance to explain himself.  
“I’m afraid,” Brendon admitted, exposing his deepest fears. “I’m afraid that you’ll replace me.”  
  
Beckett nodded, apparently sympathetically. But it was short lived. Raising a hand so quick that even Brendon missed it, he swept the back of it viciously across Brendon’s cheek, sending him spinning to the floor by the sheer force and unexpected violence of the attack. Gathering his wits quickly Brendon looked up, offering a pleading and apologetic expression to Beckett.  
  
“Master, I’m sorry, I… I…”  
“I told you not to question me! You have no reason to doubt me. Really Brendon, do you honestly believe that if I wanted to replace you, that you’d still be alive? Get out!” Beckett yelled ungraciously. “Get out and do your job!”  
“It’s dawn, Master William, Wentz will be asleep.”  
Beckett gave a deep angry sigh. “Do I have to do all your thinking for you? Go torture the other one. I want him broken into a slave within the week. Do whatever you need to and don’t bother me with this again. This is the last time I’m going to discuss this with you, Brendon. I told you that this was important to me and that you couldn’t appreciate how much. I don’t want you to ask me why and neither do I feel the need to explain myself to you! Just do precisely what I ask, without question. Is that understood?”  
“Yes, Master William,” Brendon’s shoulders sagged. Despite Beckett’s apparent confirmation that he was not being replaced, Brendon couldn’t help but wonder why there was such a need for secrecy and mystery. He felt certain he was being lied to and he didn’t like it.  
“Brendon,” Beckett’s anger faded at the sight of the misery in his favourite’s eyes. “Peter is to me what a wasp at a picnic is to a human; an ever-present, yet dangerous nuisance. But without his sting, he is nothing. Trust me, Brendon, simply do what I ask.”  
  
Brendon nodded, some of his faith restored. “Yes, William,” he replied, boldly dropping the title ‘Master’ to check the reaction.  
“Good,” Beckett smiled. “Now, it’s after dawn, too tired for torture?”  
A slow grin spread across the younger vampire’s face. “Never!”

  
  
*

  
It felt strange to be hunting in daylight, but it made sense. Only some of the slaves and a few of the older vampires would still be awake. Of course, that didn’t make Joe feel any better – the older ones were the most powerful, the most dangerous.  
  
“This place is like a fortress!” Andrea finally commented after the pair had sat in silence for some minutes. “How are we going to get in?”  
  
Joe frowned. He knew, without much consideration that she wouldn’t like his suggestion. Staring intently at the rear gates, he formulated his plan.  
  
“Realistically, only one of us can get in. I want you to cause a distraction at the front gates. Once you get their attention, run like hell to the car and get out of here.”  
“And what will you be doing?” Andrea asked surprisingly compliant.  
“I’ll be breaking in through the rear gates. They look electric, I’m guessing the taser will short them and I can get in that way.”  
“And what makes you think we can’t both go in that way?” she asked disparagingly.  
  
Joe scowled; he knew it seemed that she was going along with it far too easily.  
  
“If there’s a distraction at the front, they won’t be checking the back. It’ll be easier,” he replied with some irritation in his tone. To him, it seemed the obvious conclusion.  
“Really?” She asked raising an eyebrow. “And who do you think you’re kidding? Me, them or yourself?”  
“What?” he asked, surprised by her sudden harsh tone.  
“They saw us both together before,” she began with a sigh. “If I’m at the front gates, where do you imagine they’ll think you are?”  
“Well…”  
“And who do you think they’ll want the most out of the two of us? The hunter thorn in their side or just another snack?”  
“Look,” Joe pouted, “I’ve never done this before. Patrick’s the planner, the brains of the operation. I’m a fighter. Once I get in there, I’ll know exactly what to do. I’ll be fine, but…”  
“You think I’ll be a liability?”  
“I didn’t say that,” Joe replied softly as he saw the disappointment and, yes, even pain in her eyes.  
“But you’re thinking it?”  
“Yeah,” Joe admitted quietly. “Look, I’m sorry, but my friends are in there. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate that you saved my life the other night, but I really don’t want to have to return the favour so soon. I… I need to be able to concentrate on getting them out.”  
“I want to help,” Andrea stated firmly.  
“Look, Pete saved your life, you saved mine. Debt cleared, yeah? You don’t have to do this!” Joe insisted.  
“Perhaps I wasn’t clear enough? I want to help!”  
  
Joe sighed, but with a smile fixed on his face. She was nothing if not determined and he had to admire her courage.  
  
“Okay,” he nodded. “We’ll go in through the rear gates. Once we’re in, keep low, stay hidden and pray that most are asleep!”

  
  
*

  
  
Beckett gave a lazy smile as he watched the monitor. Pressing a button on the keypad adjacent, he waited only a few moments.  
  
“Master Beckett?” came a crisp, efficient voice, distorted slightly by the small speaker.  
“They’re coming in through the rear gates. Make it easy for them and once they’re well inside the grounds, send a welcome party.”  
“Yes, Master.”  
  
Switching off both speaker and monitor, Beckett leaned back in his chair, bringing his fingertips together as he delighted in his plans. They appeared to be working with such apparent ease and simplicity. But that was the key. Complications only bred more complications. Soon it would all be over. Peter would be under his control. Patrick would be dead and no longer a source of hope for the difficult young vampire. Andy and Joe would make good slaves or fine meals should they fail. And this girl? She was interesting; brave, beautiful and determined. Beckett guessed that her blood would taste sweet and rich. He would have her himself. His mouth almost dried at the thought.  
  
“Patience, William,” he reminded himself. “Patience. Almost two years I’ve endured ridicule from the Coven Leaders for losing control of Peter. But no more. By tonight, no one will have the nerve to mock me. No one!”

 

 


	5. A Traitor in the Midst?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon tells Andy there is a traitor in their group and Spencer taunts Brendon, just for fun

“Oh, how sweet!” Brendon laughed, his tone heavy with sarcasm, as he entered Andy’s cell, closing the door quietly behind him.

In front of him, curled up near the wall, a truly exhausted Andy was sleeping, for the most part, peacefully. The occasional twitch or eyelid flutter were the only indications that it was a restless sleep.

“You might be able to fight the younger members of the Coven, but you’re helpless against me. Trust me, I’ll break you, just as William wants. I’ll snap you like a twig!”

It was probably the sound of Brendon speaking, or it could have been that his words filtered directly into Andy’s sleeping mind, but it was at this moment he woke with a start. Jerking his head up, his eyes widened as he saw Brendon standing, once again, only a few feet away. Shaking off his sleepiness in an instant, Andy pushed himself to his feet and stood nervously with his back to the wall. After his earlier encounter with Brendon, and now alone, Andy couldn’t help but feel scared and at least able to admit it to himself.

“What do you want?” he asked, trying to sound braver than he felt.  
Brendon smiled at the reaction, he could smell Andy’s fear and he liked it.  
“William wants you as a slave, I don’t see you needing much convincing, do you?”  
“I’ll never work for you!” Andy defiantly snapped in return.  
“Really? Well, it looks as though he chose the right one after all,” Brendon gave a light shrug.  
“Chose the right one? What do you mean?” Andy asked, confused by the reply.  
“Haven’t you wondered yet why all four of you aren’t here?”

Andy frowned; he didn’t want to contemplate what Brendon was suggesting.

“Because Joe escaped you! It’s that simple!”

Brendon grinned arrogantly at the vampire hunter.

“Ah, but even you don’t really believe that do you? You do know you were led into a trap don’t you?”

Andy merely stared back, tight-lipped. He had already suspected as much, but now it had been confirmed. It seemed that they had used the same trick that the four hunters had themselves used on dozens of occasions. Two vampire groups fighting and tearing up the neighbourhood – they were the bait, as Andy himself had been in one of their own traps only a few nights before. The four hunters arrived only to find everyone scattered and the powerful and feared Dandies waiting for them. Yes, they had fallen for it and been lured into a trap – one from which they had failed to escape.

“You’re not saying very much,” Brendon mocked as he ran his fingers down the smooth line of his jacket’s lapel. “Don’t you even want to know how it was arranged?”  
“Not really,” Andy scowled, suddenly feeling braver as Brendon tried to implicate his friend as being a traitor. “But you seem to like the sound of your own voice and like you said, I can’t really stop you can I?”  
“Oh, Andy,” Brendon slapped a clenched fist to his chest. “You wound me!”  
“I’d like to!” Andy spat in reply.

Catching Andy unawares, Brendon rushed forward slamming Andy against the wall, his right arm pressed against his neck. Andy’s brow creased with pain, his eyes shut as the vampire pushed harder, preventing him from breathing. Struggling uselessly against Brendon’s preternatural strength, Andy quickly used up all his air. As his knees went limp, Brendon released him and watched unsympathetically as he collapsed to the floor, gasping for air.

“We arranged for one of the more violent vampire groups to encroach on another’s territory. Naturally, the fights broke out almost immediately. Your runner caught it all on camera and obligingly relayed it back; until he was killed, of course.” 

Brendon laughed at the pained expression on Andy’s face at the news, that, as yet, he hadn’t realised. 

“So,” he continued, “all you saw were rival groups fighting and you all came charging in; white knights on your steeds, as we knew you would. But by the time you arrived, we were already there and those not in our employ had scattered. We arrived en masse, enough of us to split you up. Pete was always going to go after William, and he was dealt with. Patrick, ever the hero, risking his life to save three apparently human and terrified girls from vampire attacks. Ha! The fool had his back to them. Well…” Brendon grinned cruelly. “You saw how he looked, what they really were.”  
“Yeah, and you got me through sheer force and numbers,” Andy scowled at the memory as he pushed himself to his feet once more.  
“Yes,” Brendon replied ending in a smirk.  
“But you didn’t get Joe!”

Brendon laughed outright the statement.

“Who exactly do you think led you into that trap?”  
Andy’s expression darkened. “You did.”  
“Well, thanks for the flattery, but of course I couldn’t do it without assistance. We needed someone on the inside, bringing you to us.”  
“No,” Andy replied calmly and shaking his head. “You’re trying to suggest that Joe works for you. No, I don’t accept it, not for a moment.”  
“Well, of course you don’t, it must be hard for you. But ask yourself this, has he done anything lately to arouse your suspicions?”  
“No! He hasn’t!” Andy replied growing increasingly angry at the vampire’s suggestions.  
“You use a sword to kill vampires, Patrick has his gadgets, have you never wondered why Joe only beats them into unconsciousness?”  
“Joe uses Patrick’s gadgets too! You’re not gonna make me believe this, Brendon!”  
“Is that so? Well, for instance, has any of your hunting equipment failed lately?” he asked slyly. 

Brendon knew what the reply would be. During the hours he spent studying the equipment seized, before Spencer had interrupted him, he had noticed the recent repair on the Net Gun.

“How do you know about that?” Andy replied shakily. “And even if you do know, it doesn’t mean Joe did it. He was the one using it! It doesn’t make sense to rig something to fail and then use it yourself.”

Brendon forced a smirk, but inside he was cursing. With three of them using the equipment, the odds were on his side that it wouldn’t be Joe using it. Damn! It was just about salvageable, but what else could he use?

“That proves my point, Joe isn’t killing vampires, he’s helping them.”   
“That’s pathetic!” Andy snapped in reply. “The gun jammed. I don’t know how you know, but that’s all it was.”  
“I understand that you don’t want to believe,” he grinned menacingly, “but of course, there’re the drinks too’”  
“Drinks?” Andy replied confused.  
“Those foul concoctions that Patrick makes to weaken Pete’s bloodlust. They haven’t been quite so effectively lately. Have they?”

Andy paled; how could he possibly know that? At that moment, Brendon knew he had him. The seed of doubt was planted firmly and all it needed was encouragement to grow. Of course, to Brendon’s advantage, Andy was unaware that Father McLynn, now a vampire, had been supplying ordinary water rather than Holy Water for Pete’s blended drinks. The garlic still helped, but the effectiveness of the overall concoction was severely weakened.

“The Holy Water he used in them?” Brendon shook his head as he revelled in Andy’s uncertainty. “Joe replaced it with ordinary water. That’s why it wasn’t working. Now, you must realise that could only have come from someone very close to you all.”

Andy, confused and distressed at his words, was at a loss to think of a reply and Brendon’s arrogant grin didn’t help. 

“I wish I could say that I’m sorry I’ve disillusioned you,” Brendon spoke with the smooth self-satisfaction of someone who knew he was about to deliver the final crushing blow to Andy’s spirit. “But Joe has been working for us for the last three months. I’m telling you this now, because it doesn’t matter any more. Very soon, Pete will be under William’s control, he will have killed Patrick and you, you will be a mindless slave.”

‘Brendon,’ Beckett’s voice was suddenly loud and urgent in the vampire’s mind. ‘A rescue attempt is in progress. Joe will soon be captured; I want him in the cell with Andy. Have you convinced him that he is their traitor?’  
‘Yes, William,’ Brendon replied. ‘I believe so.’  
‘Your belief, Brendon, is not enough. I want certainty!’  
‘I’m sorry, William, I am certain.’  
‘Good, complete your task, then you may rest.’  
‘Thank you, William.’

“Oh, and before I forget,” Brendon smirked condescendingly, “Joe believes he is on his way here to receive his reward for delivering you to us. But, in fact, his only reward will be slavery, just like you.”

Turning without a further word, Brendon once again left Andy alone in the cell to brood over the possibility that Joe had betrayed them all. As much as he didn’t want to believe it, Brendon’s arguments and insinuations were overwhelmingly convincing.

 

*

 

Joe frowned deeply; he had expected this. Almost at the mansion, Joe and Andrea saw six guards coming towards them. Without a moment’s hesitation, Andrea switched on the taser and readied herself.

“I thought vampires couldn’t come out into daylight,” she queried.  
“They’re not vampires,” Joe explained. “They’re human slaves under intense mind control. Try not to kill them.”

Andrea raised an eyebrow at such an obvious instruction before turning back ready to face them.

From his office, Beckett closed his eyes and visualised what was happening outside, he could see the pair, armed for a fight with vampires. The human guards would stand no chance against them. The corners of Beckett’s mouth turned up as he prepared himself to intervene. No one, not even Brendon, truly knew the extent of Beckett’s powers, but they were many and great. Concentrating hard, Beckett’s thoughts crept into Andrea’s mind. Totally unprepared for the insidious tactics at Beckett’s disposal, she unwittingly allowed him to take control. Her eyes glazed for a moment as she listened to his instructions.

“Get ready,” Joe barked. “I’ll take them on, you got my back!”

On hearing no reply, Joe turned his head to check that Andrea wasn’t scared, or at least too scared to react. As he stared, he knew something was wrong, but barely had time to register what it could be before she swung around and pushed the taser into his side. With a gasp of surprise, all sounds failed him as every muscle in his body simultaneously seized and shook. As Joe fell heavily to the ground unconscious, Andrea dropped the taser and, still under Beckett’s distant control, awaited the arrival of the guards. Beckett mouth spread into a cruel smile. Now he had all of them, his plan was almost complete. As a bonus, he had the girl, she would make a delightful addition to his collection of beautiful things.

 

*

Brendon smirked to himself as he closed and locked the door; William would be happy with him, certainly. He had just achieved everything asked of him. So much for Spencer and his ridiculous assumptions!

Turning, Brendon pulled up sharply as Spencer appeared suddenly in front of him. 

“What now?” Brendon snapped. “Not that I’ll believe anything you have to say.”  
“Worried you, did I?” Spencer said quietly. “I’m sorry about that.”

Brendon frowned; Spencer sounded serious. It just wasn’t the sort of thing you expected another vampire to say.

“Look,” Spencer glanced nervously around. “Can we talk? Privately?”  
“What are you up to, Spencer?” Brendon frowned with deep mistrust.  
“We can’t talk here,” Spencer whispered, still looking very on edge.  
“Talk about what?” Brendon replied with a scowl.  
“Can you be a little more discreet, Brendon,” Spencer hissed. “This involves you and it’s important. We need to go somewhere quiet and private.”  
“All right,” Brendon sighed, giving in, although still suspicious. “My room is about as private as I can get.”

Spencer shook his head and almost laughed. “Trust me, Brendon, your room is far from private.”  
“What!”  
“My room,” Spencer nodded sincerely. “I’ll explain everything.”

Brendon frowned and followed Spencer. As they walked down the long corridor towards the stairs back up to the main house, Brendon’s mind was whirling through all possible scenarios. Clearly something was wrong, but if that were true, why would Spencer be helping? It seemed an unlikely possibility.

Within a few minutes, and walking for the most part in silence, they had reached Spencer’s door. Unlocking it, the pair entered. Brendon turned as he heard the click of the lock once more and Spencer placing the key in his pocket.

“Hey!” Brendon’s voice took on a warning tone. “Put that key back in the lock!”   
“But…” Spencer began only to be interrupted.  
“You can keep it locked, but I want access to the key.”

Spencer nodded his understanding, it was something he would demand himself if they were in Brendon’s room.

“So,” Brendon sighed, ready to hear what tale Spencer was about to spin. “What’s all this about? Why the secrecy? And what the hell is wrong with my room?”  
“Brendon, sit down,” Spencer encouraged. “It’s way past dawn, you must be tired. I know I am.”  
“I’m fine,” Brendon snapped in reply remaining standing. “Now, what’s going on?”  
“Master William is going to replace you.”  
“Yeah, nice try,” Brendon frowned. “I spoke to him about it.”  
“And he said outright that he wouldn’t replace you?”  
“Yeah! As a matter of fact, he did,” Brendon replied offering a superior smirk.

Spencer sighed and shook his head. There was obviously something on his mind, something that perhaps he felt Brendon wouldn’t understand or believe.

“Look, I’m going to tell you what I know and then it’s up to you whether you believe it or not.”  
“What?” Brendon asked, confused and a little concerned.  
“I’m serious, Brendon! Master William is going to replace you with Wentz.”  
“Yeah, so you said… ah… no gloated. But William said otherwise.”  
“I’m sorry,” Spencer sighed, confusing Brendon even more. “I know it sounded like I was mocking you.”  
“Sounded?” Brendon raised an eyebrow.  
“Okay! Okay! I was mocking you. I don’t like you, Brendon, but you know that and I know you don’t like me. But guess what? I like Wentz even less. I know he wasn’t here long and he kept his humanity and all that, but I really hated him. Even if Master William can get control of him, I’ll still hate him. Bottom line is, I’d rather have you as Master’s Second than him.”

Brendon stared, shocked. It wasn’t the sort of thing he had expected to hear from any vampire, let alone from Spencer.

“So what makes you think that Wentz is my replacement?” Brendon asked calmly.  
“His humanity,” Spencer explained only partially.  
“What about it?” Brendon asked. “Apart from, how did he keep it?”  
“Well, that’s just it, it was your fault.”  
“My fault!” Brendon’s eyes widened.  
“About three months ago there was a Coven meeting…”  
“Yeah, I remember,” Brendon interrupted. “Just leaders, I didn’t go.”  
“Well, it wasn’t just leaders, it was leaders and seconds,” Spencer explained, hoping that Brendon would begin to understand.  
“But… I didn’t… William went on his own,” Brendon stammered. “How do you know it was seconds too?”  
“I’m in touch with a second from another coven, he told me.”  
“Why did he tell you?” Brendon asked suspiciously.  
“I saved him from a hunter’s stake, he owed me. He told me what was discussed.”  
“And?” Brendon prompted.  
“When Master William turned Wentz, he left it to you to give him his first blood.”

Brendon paled instantly at the words.

“He knows?” Brendon’s jaw dropped slightly in disbelief. “I had no idea. He told the Coven Leaders? What did they say?”  
“First things first,” Spencer interrupted. “Why didn’t you give the blood to Wentz?”

Brendon took a step away and turning his back on Spencer, raised his hands to his forehead.

“When they wake up, they’re usually desperate for blood He was different somehow. I don’t know what was wrong with him, but he was so angry and bitter! He wouldn’t drink it. I knew he wanted to, but he just wouldn’t! We got into a fight, it didn’t take long to subdue him, he was pretty weak.”  
“What happened with the blood? Didn’t you force him?” Spencer asked incredulously.  
“No! I’d had enough of him, I drank it myself.”  
“You fool!” Spencer shook his head. “That first drink is so important! You know that!”  
“He wouldn’t take it!” Brendon snapped in return.  
“Sometimes they don’t. You have to force them; it drives out the last of their humanity. Don’t you get it Brendon? You’re the reason he’s been a thorn in our side!”

Brendon flopped down into a chair. It was true that he knew the first drink was important, but he believed it to be more a ritual thing than anything. He had no idea it served an actual purpose – especially one that would, in this case, have delivered Wentz a fully fledged vampire into William’s control.

“And William knows?” he asked. The question was almost rhetorical, but Spencer replied anyway.  
“All the leaders know,” Spencer confirmed quietly. “And your room? It’s bugged. Master wants to know if you’re making any plans to prevent what he’s doing or even trying to overthrow him.”  
“Why would I do that?” Brendon grumbled.  
“Because you’re ambitious.”  
Brendon sighed heavily. “So what do I do?”  
“You have to make sure Master’s plan doesn’t succeed.”  
Brendon shook his head, his wariness returned. “No way, that has suicide-plan written all over it.”  
“You want it to work?” Spencer countered.  
“No, but it might not anyway.”  
“Maybe not, but are you really willing to take that chance?” Spencer asked, leaving Brendon to brood over his response.

 

*

 

“My dear, you are truly beautiful,” Beckett’s velvety voice sounded softly in Andrea’s ears as they stood alone in Beckett’s magnificently furnished bedroom.

She stood, perfectly still, almost rigid as Beckett played with her hair and breathed in her scent. She had seen what this… thing and his followers had done to Joe and his friends, and worse still, what he had made her do. Invading her mind he had forced her to attack Joe, rendering him unconscious with the taser baton he had give to her to defend herself. Joe had been supremely brave taking on a mansion full of vampires, led by this one. This one who had forced her, unknowingly, to betray him. She had been unprepared, not at all like Joe would have been. She had insisted on helping and all she had helped with was his capture. He would have been better off without her, much better off and now free of Beckett’s mind control, she could see that and she hated herself for it.

“Even more beautiful than I could see in my visualisation,” he continued.  
“Let them go.” 

Andrea’s voice was quiet, yet sounded much calmer than she felt. Standing still rigid and terrified as Beckett toyed with her hair, standing far too close for comfort and believing, or appearing to believe, that his advances were acceptable, even welcome to her.

“Who?” Beckett asked simply as he pulled her closer, pushing his face into her hair and breathing deeply. “I can make you forget them in an instant, you know.”  
“No!” Andrea cried, trying to pull away from him. 

She was unsure how he intended to do what he had suggested, but it frightened her deeply. His grip on her grew tighter, almost painful and she knew she would never be able to pull from his grasp. It seemed that his strength was so great that he had to keep himself from crushing her.

“What are they to you?” he asked, dragging over to the bed and throwing her down onto it.

Turning quickly, Andrea steadied herself and sat perched on the edge of the beautiful mahogany four-poster bed, surprised, but relieved that he had advanced no closer towards her.

“What are they to you?” he repeated.  
“I… I was just helping Joe,” she stammered.  
“Why?” he asked cocking his head on one side. It seemed unlikely to him that she was helping strangers. “Tell me, or I’ll force you to, and you know I can.”  
Andrea sighed and looked down. “I was returning a favour.”  
“That being?” Beckett prompted.  
“I was supposed to be Pete’s first kill, but he saved my life instead.”

Beckett brought his lips together into a thoughtful pout as he considered her words.

“So,” he began slowly, “you’re the one. I did wonder. He got away from me that night, you know? Rejoined his hunter friends. It’s taken me a long time to get him back. And now I have to decide.”  
“Decide what?” she asked nervously.  
“Well, position of first meal is already taken, but if that doesn’t break him, I have his two other friends and I have you. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’d much rather keep you for myself, but I have plans for Peter and they must come first.”

 

*

Andy stared harshly at the crumpled, unconscious form of Joe, recently deposited in the centre of the cell. Pushing himself to his feet, Andy approached the figure; still dressed in the familiar military style jacket he favoured so much whilst hunting.

“Wake up!” he yelled, infuriated by being forced to wait. 

Whilst dwelling on Brendon’s words, Andy had made the decision to discuss things calmly with Joe. He wanted to hear his side of things. Had Brendon twisted things around to make them appear that Joe had betrayed them and set up the trap? Had he been tampering with Pete’s Holy Water? Certainly the blend was failing and Pete had grown much more distant and difficult to live with, even scary at times. 

As he thought more about it, Andy recalled one time he had fallen asleep whilst watching television and woken to find Pete, sitting opposite, rocking slightly and staring at him intensely. It had unnerved him; he knew that Pete was struggling to keep his craving at bay. They had long since taken Patrick to Pete’s cell. Was he already dead? Was he in pain? Was Pete going crazy trying to hold himself back? Was this all Joe’s fault?

“Wake up!” Andy landed a vicious kick to Joe’s side, before pulling him up from the floor until he was almost sitting. Holding him by the hair with one hand, Andy swept a hard slap across his cheek. The result of both blows produced a sudden gasp from Joe’s mouth as he began to wake. Another slap was all it took for Joe to reach full consciousness. Looking up at his attacker, Joe’s mouth dropped open as his eyes opened to see his friend and fellow hunter raising his hand to him again. Unable to react quickly enough, Joe felt the punch to his cheek that sent shockwaves through his entire body. Pulling back out of his grip, Joe scrambled a few feet backwards.

“Andy! What the hell…? What’s wrong?” he struggled to find the right question.  
“You set us up!” Andy screamed. “You fucking betray us and you have the nerve to ask what’s wrong!”  
“I… I haven’t done…” Joe screwed up his eyes in pain as Andy landed another kick to his side.

Trying to roll out of his reach, Joe scrambled shakily to his feet and threw up his hands defensively.

“Andy, I didn’t… whatever you think I did, I didn’t do it! I was trying to rescue you, but they got me.”

Andy paused; now he wasn’t so sure. He had expected a fight, that Joe would curse his own betrayal by the vampires. Everything he had expected had not happened and he was confused. Brendon had been so convincing, the arguments sounded so plausible, so real. Had he twisted the truth? Was Joe innocent? Still with is anger intact, Andy allowed for the possibility that Joe might not be to blame.

“I was told you set us up,” he began, teeth still clenched. “The information he had was too personal, too close not to be true.”  
“I didn’t! I swear, Andy, I was coming to rescue you, all of you!”  
“Prove it,” Andy asked, his voice suddenly less strained. “I want it to be… I… I didn’t want to believe it, but he knew too much. You’ll have to prove it.”

Still shaken, Joe swallowed hard as he wondered what it would take to convince him and even if he could.


	6. Breakfast Is Served

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete continues to lose control and Brendon should watch his back

“Okay,” Andy tired hard to sound as though he was really giving Joe a chance to prove himself, but even he could hear the clipped and sceptical tone. He would just have to accept it. “Talk.”

Joe stared back, uncertain of what to say. All he knew was that Andy had been told that he had betrayed them and the information was personal and detailed enough to be convincing. He swallowed hard, more than a little scared; someone had managed to convince Andy that he had turned on them. But, without the knowledge of what he was said, Joe wondered what his chances were of convincing him otherwise.

“Go on!” Andy pressed as Joe paused for a few moments to gather his thoughts. “Or are you busy concocting a lie to get you out of this?”  
“What can I say that you’ll believe?” Joe finally snapped in return. “I don’t even know what you’ve been told.”  
“Just…” Andy’s voice softened slightly, “just tell me the truth.”  
“I will… Andy, I can only tell you the truth, but it may not be enough, I don’t know what’s been said.”  
“Just tell me!” Andy almost sounded tired instead of angry.

Nodding, Joe began with the night of the trap, explaining how he had woken tied up in Andrea’s home. Going on to detail her connection to them, the failed first rescue attempt and their lucky escape, Joe paused for breath. 

“Then?” Andy prompted.  
“Then we went back home, ours, not hers. I needed equipment, even for a daylight raid, I knew some would still be awake.”  
“How did you know?”  
“Sometimes, I read Trick’s notes. If something… if… if I’ve screwed up on a hunt, I discuss it with Patrick and we go over his notes. I learn what I can so I don’t make the same mistake twice.”  
“Except trying to rescue us,” Andy replied kindly. “You did that twice.”  
“That wasn’t a mistake,” Joe answered with a smile. “I got caught, but it wasn’t a mistake. You… you believe me?”  
Andy sighed. “I’m not sure yet, keep going.”

Joe nodded; there was light at the end of the tunnel. He knew from Andy’s reaction that his belief in him was out of sheer wanting to believe than him being actually convinced.

“I gathered things we could reasonably carry; tasers, one of Patrick’s guns with the wooden bullets, crosses, as much Holy Water as I could carry and, of course, several stakes.”  
“What did you say?” Andy cocked his head to one side, suddenly hearing something he hadn’t expected to.  
“Uh… which bit?” he asked with uncertainty. Acutely aware that he was virtually on trial, Joe had no desire to condemn himself accidentally and from Andy’s tone there was no way to be sure if what his friend had heard was detrimental to his case or not.

“The equipment you took. Why did you take the Holy Water?” Andy replied, finally deciding to be a little more specific.  
“Well…” Joe frowned. The answer should have been self-evident, especially to Andy, but there was really only one way to answer – state the obvious and hope it wasn’t so obvious after all. “Well, it burns them. I know you have to get pretty close, or they’ve actually got hold of me, so it’s a last resort thing. More desperate than practical really.”

The tension in Andy’s shoulders gave way to relief, but now his brow creased and his eyes welled. At first, unable to speak, Andy reached out and dragged his shocked friend into a hug. Uncertain over Andy’s reaction, Joe was prepared for a fight and took a few moments to realise that this was just the opposite. Slowly lowering his arms, he allowed them to settle on Andy’s back as his friend repeatedly apologised.

“I’m so sorry! Oh, Man! I can’t tell you how sorry I am! I kicked you, a lot! I can’t believe I did that. Most of all, I can’t believe I listened to Brendon!”  
“Brendon? Brendon told you I betrayed you and you believed him?” Joe pushed back and stood open mouthed. 

Already racked with guilt, Andy felt the hurt and disappointment in Joe’s tone all the more. It seemed so unreasonable, so stupid.

“He told you that I wasn’t captured because I’d set you up?” Joe asked.

Andy nodded. Taken out of context, the accusation seemed ridiculous and even more so that Andy had believed it.

“Yeah, but there was more,” Andy put up his own defence. “I wouldn’t have believed just that. He knew that the gun had jammed on our last hunt. He knew that Pete’s blend was failing.”  
Joe’s brow furrowed at the words. “How could he know that?”  
“He said you were replacing the Holy Water with ordinary water.”  
“Well,” Joe nodded, “that would explain it, not the me doing it part, though.”

Andy smiled; he no longer doubted Joe and was relieved that he appeared to understand why he had been so easily convinced.

“I can believe that’s the reason it’s been failing, though,” Joe continued. “So there’s really only one person it could be.”  
Andy shook his head. “I’m not blaming Patrick, I’ve already got this horribly wrong once and I…”  
“Andy!” Joe interrupted. “I don’t mean Trick. I mean, the priest.”  
“Oh… Oh!” Andy’s eyes widened as Joe realised the only person who could be to blame for Pete’s blends beginning to fail. “They got to him somehow?”  
“Must have,” Joe sighed. “But even if he suddenly disapproved of Pete being a vampire, surely there’s no way he’d risk human lives by deliberately tampering with Pete’s drinks?”  
“Or,” Andy frowned, “he no longer cares about human lives and perhaps can’t actually handle Holy Water any more?”

Joe sighed and nodded his head sadly; it made far too much sense.

“Would explain why Brendon knew. And that’s how you knew you were lied to?”  
Andy nodded. “Because you didn’t know. But…” Andy looked down. “I should have known anyway.”  
“Hey!” Joe pulled his friend back into a hug. “You’ve been locked in a cell in a house full of vampires, no idea what’s happening with Pete and Trick. Brendon messed with your head. I understand. Brendon’s a sly one; in the same situation, I’d have been tricked too.”  
“Thanks, man,” Andy sighed with relief.  
“Where are Pete and Trick?” Joe asked, finally satisfied that he was no longer under suspicion.  
“They’ve got Pete in another cell, but they took Trick there. Must be nearly thirteen hours ago now. They,” Andy paused with a deep frown as he tried to explain. “They want Pete to kill Patrick. His first human blood.”  
Joe’s eyes widened as he thought about his two friends and the terrifying scenario. “Pete won’t recover from that, it’ll break him!”  
“I know,” Andy nodded sadly. “I think they know it too, that’s why they’re doing it.”

*

Patrick sat in the corner of the cell, his legs gathered up to his chest with his arms wrapped around them and his head lowered. To all intents and purposes he appeared to be asleep. He didn’t rule out the possibility that he had slept, but he simply couldn’t be certain. He was terrified beyond thought and reason. The coming of dawn had granted him a few extra hours, but those hours could only be spent staring at his best friend, the one who would kill him on waking.

Patrick knew that, in control, Pete would never hurt him. Lately, with the blend failing because of the lack of Holy Water, Pete had been forced to keep a much tighter rein on himself. To everyone’s relief, he had managed to do just that. Pete drank increasingly more animal blood but it never seemed to quench his thirst. He knew more than anyone exactly what he needed and when he wasn’t occupied with hating Beckett for turning him, he hated himself for how he was forced to live and feel. There was no way he would hurt his friends but he suffered in the process. His dark craving ate away at him in ways they could never understand. 

But now, all his self-imposed inhibitions were gone. Drained and starving, Pete would now be a victim of his instincts. Those instincts would keep him alive at all costs. Knowing that it wouldn’t be his own fault wouldn’t really help. 

He didn’t need to look at his watch again; he knew it was nearly sunset. Burying his face between his knees, Patrick tried to accept that soon enough that he would be dead and the best he could hope for was that it would be relatively painless.

Pete wasn’t known to be the earliest of risers, either as a human or a vampire, so the groan emanating from the other side of the cell came as something of a surprise to Patrick. Looking up, all Patrick could contemplate was a strangely naive and innocent thought about the power of hunger. Vaguely smiling to himself at the absurdity, he quietly thanked his brain for trying so hard to think about anything other than his impending death at the hands, or rather the fangs, of his best friend.

Almost at the same time, the outer door to the cell opened to reveal Brendon. Patrick glanced over, noticing immediately that all his overbearing arrogance seemed to have dissipated, only to be replaced by something resembling pensive determination. Patrick wondered what could have happened to him since his last appearance in the cell. It would be fair to say that Patrick’s interest was purely academic and fleetingly, he considered remembering the detail to write up in his notes in Brendon’s file. A sinking feeling hit him as he realised that he wouldn’t escape to write up those notes and, if honest, at least with himself, he would shortly be dead.

Ignoring Patrick completely, Brendon stared, somewhat sternly as Pete began to open his eyes. Still slumped against the bars, Pete’s first reaction on waking was to sniff the air. Despite his pensive, almost distant attitude on arrival, Brendon’s mouth curled into a smirk as the scent of Patrick’s blood filled Pete’s nostrils and fired his cravings and desperate needs once more.

Pushing himself to his feet, Patrick chewed his bottom lip nervously as the scene unfolded in front of him.

“Hungry, Wentz?” Brendon got straight to the point.

Both Brendon and Patrick witnessed Pete’s silent reply. Sitting up, still disorientated, Pete turned a pair of wild, empty eyes first towards Brendon before directing them towards Patrick.   
By now, Patrick, seeing the hollowness in Pete’s eyes, had pressed up against the wall, his face desperately pallid from a combination of fear and the earlier draining he had received during the street fight. To Brendon’s clear amusement, Patrick pulled in his breaths in short, desperate gasps. There was no compassion in Pete’s eyes, no friendship and, Patrick reflected, not even any recognition. No, Pete was completely lost and beyond control. This was it, Patrick steeled himself, wishing it was easy to accept. He was about to die.

“Breakfast is served,” Brendon smirked as he used the remote control device to open the cells’ adjoining door.

Pete pulled frantically on the thick, studded belt wrapped tightly around his wrists, still holding him to the bars.

“Let me go!” he screamed at Brendon before turning his eyes to Patrick again. 

All Patrick could see was the burning hunger, pain, need and desperation. There seemed to be nothing of Pete left; even what was left of his humanity had failed him. He was ready to kill.

“Let me go!” he screamed again. “Get this off me!”  
“Do it yourself,” Brendon ordered. “You’re strong enough!”

Patrick watched, his heart in his mouth, pressing himself even further back against the wall as Pete strained on the belt. Already he could see the tension in the belt as part of it stretched and another began to tear.

“I don’t… I won’t believe that William wants you, Wentz, but even if he does, I’ll prove him wrong. I’ve worked too hard to be overthrown by you, but I’m not stupid, I won’t disobey William, no matter what.” Brendon grumbled to himself, attracting Patrick’s attention as he did. Offering him a smirk, Brendon continued. “Whatever happens, you’ll be dead, and your friends slaves. We’ve seen off every hunter group. Yours was the last, but you’re finished now. The city is ours!”  
“We’re not finished yet!” Patrick replied defiantly, surprising even himself.

Brendon turned his eyes casually as one of the loops of leather wrapped around Pete’s wrists snapped.

“Oh, I beg to differ,” Brendon replied with a smirk. “I hope you don’t mind if I watch? I think I’m going to enjoy this!”

 

*

 

Joe and Andy both turned as they heard the key turn in the cell door’s lock. Andy had only just finished explaining what fate Beckett had in store for them and it seemed likely that it was about to begin. Unlike typical humans, Andy and Joe had experience of vampires and a great deal of experience fighting them. The level of mind control and torture that it would take to make these particularly strong and prepared individuals to be reduced to the position of slaves was considerable. It would take a vampire of a number of years to summon that much power to hold them in absolute subservience.

The pair expected to see Brendon, or even Beckett, accompanied by younger vampires and slaves loaded with instruments of torture. They were determined to fight and refused to think the words ‘to the end’. Even thinking the words suggested that they already believed the vampires would win.

They were more than a little surprised when Spencer entered the cell alone, carrying the two taser batons seized from Joe and Andrea.

“It’s time for you to get out of here,” Spencer announced to their astonishment.  
“What do you mean?” Joe asked, trying hard to believe that he heard what he thought he had.  
“Get out. Go. Escape.” Spencer replied irritably. “You want me to write it down for you? All your equipment is under tarpaulin near the rear doors to the mansion.”

Andy and Joe exchanged brief, confused glances as they tried to take in the news.

“What are you up to, Spencer?” Andy finally asked, even more suspicious after Brendon’s earlier cruel trick, turning him against Joe.  
“I’m letting you go,” he explained with a frown. “I really didn’t expect to have to convince you!”  
“Yeah well, we’ve been tricked before,” Andy admitted with a rich anger to his tone.  
“No tricks, but there are conditions.”  
“We’re not leaving without Pete and Patrick,” Joe spoke for both of them.  
“Damn straight! I want you all gone!” Spencer snapped in return. “No fighting, no fuss, no killing, just gone. Understand?”  
“What are you…?” Andy began still surprised by the sudden and unexpected turn of events.  
“There isn’t time!” Spencer interrupted. “Brendon’s just gone into the other cell and any minute now, your friend is breakfast. Got it? We have to speed this up.”  
“What are your conditions?” Andy asked hurriedly.  
“Take these,” Spencer replied, passing the taser batons to Joe and Andy. “If you’re caught, Brendon freed you, okay? Now, go left out of here, the door to their cell is a few cells down and slightly open. Brendon is just inside, he has a remote control device that operates the cell doors. I want you to knock him out with the tasers. I need him out cold for at least thirty minutes.”  
Joe shook his head. “They’re not strong enough to do that.”  
“They are now,” Spencer grinned slyly. “I modified them. Trust me, Brendon will be out cold. Get the other two and get the hell out of here!”  
“What about Andrea?” Joe asked urgently.  
“Forget her, Master William has her. There’s nothing you can do about that now,” Spencer replied coldly.  
“But she…”  
“Forget her!” Spencer ordered. “If I sense you even trying to find her, I’ll raise the alarm.”  
“Why are you doing this, Spencer?” Joe asked, still understandably suspicious.  
“I have my reasons,” he replied mysteriously. “But if you don’t go now, it’ll be too late; one of them, possibly both of them will be dead.”

Andy nodded; finally realising that Spencer appeared to be truly helping them.

“One more thing,” Spencer drew Andy’s sword from inside his jacket and extended it. “You picked this up from Brendon after you attacked him. Leave now, lock me in and get out of here.”  
“What about the others? The cameras?” Joe asked quickly, determined not to go through all this only to be captured again.  
“Dealt with, you’re clear to go.” Spencer replied equally fast.

Turning the sword on his abdomen and pushing hard, Spencer thrust the sword straight through himself. With a gasp, he dropped fast and hard to his knees, grimacing as he pulled the sword out once more. 

“Go!” he croaked, handing the weapon back to Andy.

*

With one last firm pull, accompanied by a grunt of effort, Pete fell backwards as the belt around his wrists finally gave way, leaving strips of studded leather scattered on the floor.

Rising gracefully to his feet in one fluid movement, Pete turned his attention to the terrified young man on the far side of the adjacent cell.

Frozen to the spot, Patrick found himself only able to stare in return. Torn between reality and hope, Patrick was wishing it wasn’t real, praying it wasn’t real. Yet at the same time trying desperately to accept that it was. Sweat glistened on his brow as he watched Pete’s fangs extend. Patrick had never witnessed that before and it was both terrifying and fascinating. Pete had been entirely engulfed by his instincts and Patrick knew now that there was no stopping him.

Throughout all of this, Brendon stood in the viewing area, watching intently. It felt to Patrick as if everything was happening in slow motion. Perhaps it was, but far from being a relief, it was actually prolonging the agony.

“Pete?” Patrick began shakily. “If you’re going to do this… please… just get it over with.”  
“Yeah, come on Wentz!” Brendon goaded. “Don’t play with your food.”

Stepping forward with only occasionally faltering defiance, Pete gripped Patrick tightly by his upper arms and filled his nostrils once more was the intoxicating scent of Patrick’s warm and sweet blood. It overwhelmed him and excluded all other thoughts from his mind.

Patrick’s head swam as he was suddenly overcome by a heady daze and he found himself almost smiling as he realised that Pete, the real Pete, was still somewhere deep inside, trying his best to at least make it easier for him. When the three female vampires had attacked him, Patrick had suffered excruciating pain as they each tore into his flesh. He knew this time it would be different. In this simple act of kindness Patrick knew that Pete’s human side was still very much there, just deeply suppressed by his vampire instincts. Was it worth pleading? Or would it hurt Pete more to hear it, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop what was happening.

The pair stared at each other briefly, eyes locking in unspoken understanding. Pete was helpless to his instincts. Those same instincts would break him.

“What are you waiting for?” Brendon demanded. “Get on with it!”

Succumbing further to the light-headed daze that Pete had created within him, Patrick put up no resistance. Slowly, gently, Pete lowered his head, sinking his fangs into his friend’s neck. The pain of the moment barely registered as his blood spilled into Pete’s eager mouth. Pete moaned with the pleasure of sating his deep thirst; the sweet, warm blood, like fine wine on his lips. It was all he could do to force himself not to bite down harder to drink faster. Two things prevented him. His human side knew it would hurt Patrick and his vampire side wanted to savour the flavour, the feel of warm, human blood flowing easily into his mouth. It was surreal, it was sensual and he wanted it to last forever. 

By now Pete was holding Patrick upright. Patrick’s glazed mind was uncertain whether his weakness was solely due to blood loss, the hypnotic stupor he found himself in or a combination of both. But one thing he knew for certain as he felt himself slump in Pete’s grip; it would be over soon.

Pete pulled back in surprise as he heard the commotion behind him. Turning, he saw Joe and Andy, their tasers fired up and buzzing. At their feet Brendon lay unconscious. Both men stared open mouthed at Pete, his fangs still extended, and the limp form of Patrick in his grip.

“You… you killed him?” Andy stammered with disbelief.  
“No,” Pete glanced back at the figure in his hands, hanging limply. His craving satisfied, it was as if Pete had suddenly woken with no memory of what he had done, but he couldn’t deny the evidence of his own eyes. “I…” 

Pete laid Patrick gently down on the floor and turned to face his friends. Joe had stepped forward, his expression revealed his anger but not the ferocity of that anger. Lifting the remote control taken from Brendon, Joe opened the door to the cell, never once lowering his gaze.

“It wasn’t… I mean… I couldn’t…” Pete continued to struggle with his own confusion.

Furious, Joe pushed the modified taser into Pete’s chest to Andy’s horror. Watching him drop to the floor Joe lowered the taser with a look of righteous indignance.

“No!” Andy cried as Joe’s anger got the better of him. “We don’t know that he’s dead.”

Frantically searching for a pulse, Andy sighed with relief as he found one. It was weak and faint, but it was there.

“We have to go,” he ducked down to pull Patrick’s now unconscious form over his shoulder.  
“I need to find Andrea,” Joe insisted.  
“You can’t, you heard what Spencer said! He’ll raise the alarm,” Andy reasoned.  
“You don’t understand! I brought her here, I can’t leave her, she saved my life!” Joe insisted before turning for the door.  
“I can’t carry them both!” Andy pleaded.

Joe turned; the turmoil on his face said it all. He was being forced to betray someone, but he had to decide who that would be. 

“We’ll come back,” Andy promised. “We’ll get her out, but we can’t help anyone if we don’t go now.”

Andy’s words made sense and Joe was forced to admit that his own temper had reduced their numbers. If he had listened to Pete instead of attacking him with the now modified taser, they might have been able to help Andrea too, but the decision was effectively made for them. They were forced to leave her with Beckett. Pulling Pete over his shoulder, Joe followed Andy out of the cell.

*

Within a few minutes, Spencer, still kneeling on the floor of what had been Andy and Joe’s cell, sensed their absence from the mansion. Mentally, he sent a message to his slave to restore the security cameras to their normal operation, instead of the fixed scenes that suggested that all was well. It was time to put his plan into operation.

‘Master William!’ he called telepathically. ‘Master William! Please help me!’

It was only a few minutes later that the door to the cell burst open. Beckett stood in the doorway, his face frozen in a mask of anger as he saw Andy and Joe gone. Now lying on the floor clutching the partially healed wound to his abdomen, Spencer looked up.

“Master…”  
“You were overpowered by humans?” Beckett snapped unkindly.  
“No, Master, it was Brendon. He’s…”

Beckett waved for Spencer to be silent as he dismissed his entourage of junior coven members and slaves. Now alone, he kneeled at Spencer’s side, helping him to sit up.

“Brendon did this to you?” he asked quietly with a thoughtful pout.

Brendon had attacked other vampires before, it wasn’t unknown, it wasn’t even uncommon, but somehow this felt different. Spencer was still alive.

“Why did he attack you? And where are the prisoners?” Beckett finally asked.

Spencer composed himself, he had to get this just right.

“I saw him collecting the hunters’ equipment. I wondered why, so I followed him, he came down here and told the humans he was releasing them, all of them…”  
“All!” Beckett growled angrily as he turned and spun to his feet. 

Leaving Spencer still sitting on the floor of the cell, Beckett ran to the cell that had previously housed Pete. The door was closed but unlocked and Beckett’s fury raged through him as he found the cell empty. Well, almost empty. On the floor at his feet, Brendon still lay unconscious. His mind was already filling in the gaps: In a fit of jealousy over Peter and Beckett’s intentions for him, Brendon had released all four prisoners but had been double-crossed and overpowered by them as they made their escape. The only thing that troubled him was, if it were true, why Brendon had left a witness. Spencer could only have been incapacitated by his attack, not killed. Why did he not finish the job? Lifting Brendon, Beckett deposited his limp body in the cell previously occupied by Pete before closing and locking the door. Returning to the other cell, Beckett had more questions for Spencer.

“How did he attack you?” he asked bluntly.  
“I saw him leave some of the equipment outside the cell.”  
“Some?” Beckett interrupted. “So we still have the rest?”  
“I don’t know Master William, there was none left in the room, I don’t know what he did with the rest.”  
“Go on.”  
“I confronted him as he was returning Andy’s sword to him. I was taken by surprise, with his back to me, I couldn’t see what he was holding until it was too late. He ran it through me and I was on the floor in seconds. He told me he’d be back to finish the job. I don’t remember much else.”  
“The blade has been blessed, that’s why it’s so effective. It must have been very painful for you.”

Spencer nodded, he hadn’t been aware of the blessing on the sword and had truly been almost too incapacitated to see the plan through, but his determination drove him on.

“Brendon hasn’t returned yet. Is Wentz still our prisoner?” Spencer asked in the full knowledge that the four had escaped.  
“No,” Beckett growled angrily. “It would seem they used the equipment he provided them with to overpower him and made their escape.”  
“Why? Why would he do that?”  
Beckett rose to his feet and stared thoughtfully. “I underestimated him. But,” he continued, “he has grossly underestimated me! Can you stand?”  
“Yes, Master William, I think so, it is beginning to heal.”  
“Spencer,” Beckett paused for a moment before continuing. “You may call me William. You will take Brendon’s place at my side.”  
“Master! I…I’m honoured!”  
“Let’s bring our new prisoner up to speed shall we?” 

It was impossible to determine Beckett’s tone. If he had been able to feel remorse or loss, it was truly possible that these would be the overriding emotions, but as a vampire, they emerged only as anger – and Beckett was very angry.

Standing in the cell, Beckett invaded Brendon’s mind forcing him to wake. The electrical patterns imposed by the modified tasers made it impossible for Beckett to read anything. Pushing harder against the effects of the taser, Beckett forced Brendon to wake, disorientated and confused, he reeled as he tried to take in the surroundings.

“W… where… what?” Brendon stammered as he realised that both Pete and Patrick were gone and he was actually locked inside one of the cells with both Beckett and Spencer staring at him. Pushing himself to his feet, Brendon staggered slightly, before regaining his balance.

“The Coven Leaders were right about you, Brendon. I was a fool to protect you from their wrath. When you didn’t force Peter to take his first drink, I defended you to them. I was mocked repeatedly for doing so. I believed that if I could bring Peter under control then hand him over to them for their amusement, they would forgive your transgression as I had. I took a lot from them over you, and this is how you repay me? Freeing them! What was it, Brendon? Jealousy? I told you you could trust me! That you had nothing to fear!”  
“William!” Brendon gripped the bars. “I did everything that you asked me to! I don’t know how they escaped. I was attacked from behind!” Now seeing the gloating smirk that Spencer was desperate to suppress, Brendon realised that all Spencer’s apparent concern had been merely a trick to take his place. “It was Spencer!”   
“Really? And then he stabbed himself with a blessed sword and locked himself in a cell with the key on the outside?”  
“William, please, I don’t know how he did it, but…”  
“Enough!” Beckett snapped. “Welcome to your new home, Brendon. You will starve here.”  
“No! William, please! I did…”  
“Master!” Beckett corrected.  
“Master William…” Brendon began again.  
“No,” Beckett shook his head, “just Master. Your rank is now lower than that of slave. I keep my promises, Brendon, you should know that.”

Brendon’s eyes widened at the words. Spencer had tricked him. Couldn’t he see that?

“No, Master, please!” Brendon begged as Beckett turned and walked briskly from the cell. 

Spencer turned to him with an evil smirk plastered on his face.

“No one ever got you by trying to kill you, you’re too strong. But disgrace you? Well, that was just too easy!”  
“Spencer!” Beckett called from outside the cell.  
“Coming, William.”

Brendon sank to his knees and leaned against the bars. He had overcome his own paranoia to do everything that Beckett had asked and still lost it all. Spencer would pay for this. Somehow, he’d make him pay!


	7. Turning Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete and the guys have a difficult choice to make

Beckett pushed the door to his room open with such ferocity that it slammed into the wall with a resounding crack; the doorknob embedding itself in one of the decorative wooden panels covering the walls. Andrea spun around to face him. 

As Beckett had left, she had heard the very clear sound of a key turning in the lock. Frustrated and angry at being held against her will, she tried as hard as she could but had been unable to force the door or even pick the lock with makeshift tools found in the room. Also, to her surprise, despite the room having heavy velvet drapes hanging beautifully at regular intervals, all she found behind them was yet another part of the wall. It became apparent to her that some time ago, probably long ago, Beckett’s windows had been bricked up to avoid the risk of allowing any light in at all. But his sense of aesthetics demanded that curtains should adorn the spaces where windows had once stood. Andrea was trapped in this grandly decorated bedroom awaiting the return of the leader of this band of monsters. And now he had returned and his anger was beyond comprehension. As he laid eyes on the pretty and frightened brunette, something inside him stirred. It was malice. Yes, he could use her. Calming rapidly, Beckett offered a smooth, easy smile.

“Are you comfortable, my dear?” he asked, throwing her off balance by the rapid change in his demeanour.

Perhaps she was simply too scared. Perhaps she had seen or taken enough?

“No!” she snapped with contempt. “You’ve taken my friends and kept me prisoner in here! Exactly how am I supposed to be comfortable with that?”

Beckett examined his fingernails casually as she stood in front of him. In his peripheral vision, he could see her looking past him towards the now open door. It amused him to think that she actually entertained the idea that she could beat him to it.

“Your friends?” He asked casually. “Are you sure about that?”  
“Well,” she shrugged, caught off guard by the question. “I know two of them now.”

Beckett knew her reasons for being there; he had read it in her thoughts. An entirely different indication was the sudden heat from her body at the mention of the two hunters that she already knew. She had feelings for one of them, Beckett noticed, possibly both of them. He had to know which if he were to use the information to his advantage. 

“But don’t you know that they’ve escaped?” He paused for effect. “Leaving you here, knowing that I have you.”  
Andrea took a step back and shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”  
“Oh, but you should, I can prove it, if you prefer,” Beckett took a few steps closer. “Why do you think I was so angry on my return?”  
“No… he… they wouldn’t leave me here with you. You’re lying.”  
“I doubt if Peter would even remember you anyway, it was a long time ago.”  
“Pete?” she queried.

Beckett smirked, silently thanking her for the information.

“Ah, I’m sorry, you mean Joe,” Beckett grinned, flashing his sharp fangs. “I wonder if the feeling is mutual? I wonder what he’d be prepared to give up to save your life?”

Andrea’s eyes widened as she stepped back away from him, but he was too fast. Circling his right arm around her waist, he pulled her close enough to feel the rhythm of her heart beating against his silent chest. Pushing her hair out of her eyes, he caressed her cheek; all the while she tried to squirm out of his grip. His hand moved back to her hair, smoothing the soft curls back into position before snatching a handful of it and pulling at the roots.

“Let me explain something to you,” he began menacingly as he softened his grip on her hair before stroking it once more. “You’re mine, and only mine. You will remain here as my companion, under my protection; no one else will dare touch you. But remember this, you’re like a beautiful but fragile porcelain ornament – if I drop you, you will break.”

Forcing her hands up between them to his chest, Andrea pushed with all her strength, but the hold he had on her seemed almost effortless.

“Let go of me, you freak!” she screamed as he held her tighter still, pinning her arms.  
“Allow me to change your mind,” Beckett growled angrily at the insult.  
“I’ll never ch…”

Andrea gasped as he pulled her head back. Towering over her, Beckett’s mouth widened into a mirthless grin as he fixed her with intense brown eyes that seemed almost to see directly into her mind. Lost in his gaze, all Andrea could do was stare upwards, transfixed. Moving closer, Beckett placed his lips on hers gently at first. Then with his left hand to supporting her head he leaned further into the increasingly passionate kiss. Beckett smiled with satisfaction as she began to return his affections, before, at length, slowly pulling back until finally their lips parted. Beckett now looked down at Andrea, his expression serious, almost stern.

“You will call me William and you will come to me whenever it pleases me to call for you. You will love me with all your heart and do anything for me, anything at all.”  
“Anything,” she nodded.  
“Even,” he added placing a finger on her lips, “if it involves hurting the object of your true desire.”  
“Anything for you… William.”

As Andrea spoke the words, she looked and sounded her normal self, if possibly a little subdued. There was nothing about her that suggested that Beckett had placed her under his control. It was important this time that she would appear perfectly normal when Joe returned to rescue her; an event that Beckett was in no doubt would happen soon. He would be ready; Andrea would bring the hunter to him.

“My dear, I’ll have Spencer find you a room.”

*

“No,” he shook his head as he stood up. “I’m sorry, Andy, there’s nothing I can do.”  
“Is there nothing anyone could do?” Andy asked in desperation to his friend Simon; a doctor who had tended to their injuries in the past.  
“Honestly? I… I doubt it. Even if you explain how he lost so much blood and they believed you, it’s too late.”  
Andy chewed his lip. “There’s got to be something!”  
Simon took a deep breath and patted Andy’s shoulder compassionately. “Make him as comfortable as you can. Andy, now… it… it’s not ‘if’ it’s ‘when’.”

Andy dropped into a chair at the desk opposite Patrick’s bed and held his head in his hands.

“I can’t believe this,” he muttered to himself.  
“I wish there was something I could do, Andy, I really do,” Simon slipped into the chair alongside his friend. “You say Beckett’s vampires did this?”

Andy looked up, he had conveniently forgotten to mention Pete’s involvement, he just couldn’t bring himself to say the words. Andy merely nodded.

“Well,” Simon began, “I don’t mean to worry you or anything, but are you sure they didn’t turn him?”  
Andy shook his head. “No, we caught them in the act of draining him, there was no blood exchange.”  
Simon took a deep breath. “Well, at least he won’t wake up a vampire.”  
“He just won’t wake up at all?” Andy almost choked on the words.  
“I… I’m sorry, Andy. No, there’s no way he’ll survive this.”  
“Si, don’t take this the wrong way, but could you leave please? I need to be alone with this.”  
“Sure,” Simon nodded, “ I totally understand.”

Andy watched in silence as Simon said his goodbyes and left the warehouse. Walking into the next room, Andy stared at Pete, still sleeping on Andy’s own bed, heavily chained in case he woke with a new found taste for human blood.

“Pete?” Andy queried, receiving no response. 

Pete had now been unconscious for about forty minutes; surely he had to wake soon? Andy didn’t have the luxury of waiting. Now standing next to him, Andy stood next to him, shaking him and screaming his name. Finally successful, Andy jumped back in surprise as Pete opened his eyes. Realising, almost at once, that he was out of the cell and that Andy was standing over him, Pete tried hard to sit up but found himself unable to complete that one simple act.

“Andy… what… what’s going on?” Pete stammered as he stared up.  
“You,” he began, then stopped, not wanting to say the words. But there was no choice, he had to and he had to do this quickly. “You drained Trick.”  
“I…? Is he, I mean, did I?”  
“He’s alive,” Andy looked down. “But he won’t be for long.”  
“I did that?” Pete’s voice sounded small and helpless; his eyes wide with horror at the thought.  
“He’s going to die, Pete. If you… if you don’t help him, he’ll die.”  
“Help him!” Pete’s jaw dropped. “You mean turn him?”

Andy nodded silently.

“No!” Pete shook his head vigorously. “Believe me, that’s NOT helping him!”  
“Pete! He’s going to die if you don’t!”  
“And if I do? Do you have any clue how that feels? Of course you don’t! You think it’s cool that I’m fast and strong, but do you know how it feels? No more sunlight on your face! Worrying that I might kill my friends! Locked up during the day. Limited, but extremes of emotions. A desperate need to drink blood! Do you really think that’s what Trick wants?”  
“No! But damn it! He’s going to die! Pete, do you understand that? He ‘s got about an hour maybe two left!”  
“I won’t do it!” Pete shook his head. “I won’t let him suffer like I do.”  
“No, you’ll just kill him instead,” Andy snapped.

Pete paled. He was more than aware that he was the one to drain Patrick. The reason that, unless he stepped in, he would never wake up.

“Look,” Andy reasoned. “We’re hunters, we know what the options are. If he’d rather have died, then we…” Andy paused. “We know how.”  
“I’ve never done it before,” Pete admitted. “What if I get it wrong? What if I kill him?”  
“Then we’re in no worse a situation then, are we?” Andy shrugged.  
“But…” Pete shrugged and turned his head and stared, unseeing, at the wall. “What if he wakes up evil?

It was a possibility, if course. And one they needed to consider.

“You didn’t,” Andy stated encouragingly.  
“No, but, I don’t know why and... why am I chained to the bed?”  
“In case you got a taste for human blood,” Andy explained simply, but making no move to free him. “Look, there must have been something different about the way you were turned. Think!”  
“Andy, I was there less than three months! I only saw one person turned before I escaped from Beckett,” Pete lowered his eyes at the memory. “Spencer did it.”  
“I didn’t think junior coven members were allowed to turn people,” Andy commented.  
“Spencer? Junior? No, no, you’ve got that wrong. Just because he keeps his head down and follows Beckett blindly, don’t be fooled. He’s next in line for Brendon’s position.”  
“And now, I imagine he’s got it,” Andy replied mysteriously.  
“What do you mean? You think he killed Brendon? No way.”  
“No, Spencer freed us, but kept telling us to say it was Brendon if we got caught,” Andy explained.  
Pete gave a low chuckle. “Gotta watch the quiet ones.”  
“Pete…” Andy drew his lips into a thin line. “What about Patrick?”  
“I don’t want to do it…”  
“Pete! He’s going to die!” Andy shouted in frustration.  
“Let me finish!” Pete yelled above Andy’s reply. “I don’t want to do it because... because he’ll hate me for what I’ve done to him, and I won’t blame him. But you’re right; it should be his decision. Take the chains off me and bring them, you’re going to need them for him. We don’t know how he’s going to wake.” 

Andy worked fast to free Pete from the restraints, before gathering them up to carry through into Patrick’s room.

“What if he does wake up evil?” Andy asked quietly, as if by keeping his voice low it would somehow reduce the possibility of it happening.  
Pete chewed his lower lip before replying in strangled voice. “If that happens, I’ll deal with it.”

 

*

Pete stood to one side of the bed as Andy wove an intricate pattern with the chains to hold Patrick down. 

“I see you haven’t forgotten,” he sighed as he recalled the distant memory.

Almost finished, Andy turned a guilt-fuelled expression towards his equally angst-ridden friend. He remembered when Pete had returned to them, a vampire, after eleven long weeks under the watchful eyes of Beckett and his Coven. Understandably, none of them had been able to trust him at first. Weeks of lengthy interrogations had followed, when he had been kept chained up and closely guarded until they were satisfied that he meant them no harm and they had found a method to keep his bloodlust under control.

“It’s not something I’m proud of,” Andy replied, his voice low, almost a whisper.  
“I know,” Pete nodded, with surprising sympathy. “It was necessary. I did understand, even though I didn’t say so at the time. Patrick will understand too.”  
“I hope so,” Andy replied as he secured the last padlock.  
“Do you mind?” Pete began. “Do you mind leaving? This is kind of, well, I don’t want people watching.”  
“But you’ll do it?” Andy asked quietly.  
Pete pushed his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I’ll do it. I said I would, didn’t I?”  
“You also said you didn’t want to,” Andy reasoned without malice.  
“We don’t always get what we want, do we?” Pete replied sadly as Andy nodded and made his way from the room, leaving him alone to bring his best friend into the restrictive and terrifying confines of vampirism. What remained of Pete’s human heart was breaking.

“I want you to know, Trick, that I don’t want you to die, but I do this under duress. You’ll hate me for this, I know you will, and I don’t blame you, but we can get through this… together. Maybe I can help you for a change?”

Pete prepared himself and hoped for the best.

*

“Where are you going?” Andy asked as he saw Joe kitted out for what appeared to be a raid.  
“I’m going to get Andrea out of that mansion and away from Beckett,” Joe replied, apparently surprised by the question.  
“You’re leaving? Now?” Andy questioned, blocking Joe’s exit.  
“Yeah,” he replied in a surly tone. “We escaped, Pete and Patrick are safe. Why can’t I save Andrea?”

Andy looked down and shook his head; he simply couldn’t believe he had heard the question.

“We have no Holy Water. Pete’s drunk human blood and, by the amount he took, I’m guessing he liked it. We have no idea how it affected him. He’s just about to turn Patrick and we have no idea if he’ll wake up good or evil or even sane! Pete doesn’t really know what he’s doing. And you’re leaving now? Leaving me here, alone, with two vampires with no way to control their bloodlust!”  
“The way you say it makes me sound selfish,” Joe pouted.  
“Selfish doesn’t cover it, Joe! Stop thinking with your dick and do something useful!”  
“That’s not fair!” Joe snapped in retaliation. “You said yourself we’d go back for her!”  
“Yeah! We would, not you would! I’m not happy she’s there either, but we can only do one thing at a time and right now, Patrick needs us!”

*

Pete sunk his fangs deep into his own wrist and pressed it to Patrick’s lips. A tense few seconds followed where nothing happened, no reaction from Patrick at all. Pete didn’t need to check if Patrick was still alive by checking for a pulse or looking to see if he was breathing; he knew, he could feel it, he could smell what was left of his blood. Chewing his lower lip, he tried hard not to think about the exquisite flavour of human blood. The rich texture, and the powerful heady sensation when he drank. It had been overwhelming. Not because he had been drained and was unnaturally hungry, but because, purely and simply, it was what he needed, what he craved, what he… he tried not to think of the words beyond being a casual turn of phrase… what he would kill for. Andy was in the next room; he had to stop thinking about it. It wasn’t an option. He really had to.

“Come on!” Pete muttered under his breath. “Trick, you have to help me out here, Andy isn’t going to believe I tried!”

The tiniest flicker of movement caught his eye as Patrick’s lips latched onto the wound and Pete began to feel the sensation of blood being pulled out of him, slowly at first then faster, much faster. Opening his eyes, Patrick strained on the chains, his hands clawing at the air as he tried to grab hold of Pete’s arm to hold it in place, apparently terrified that he may pull away at any second.

Only then did Pete realise that after he had fed Patrick, he would be hungry again. Very hungry. And Andy was only in the next room.

“Andy!” he yelled as Patrick continued to draw blood swiftly from his wrist. 

Pete didn’t dare move until he knew it had worked. He didn’t know how he would know, but he recalled hearing Spencer tell a junior coven member that ‘you just felt it’. Right now, all Pete felt was returning hunger as Patrick took back his own blood, mixed with Pete’s.

“What’s wrong?” Andy asked urgently as he opened the door.  
“Bring more chains,” Pete demanded.  
“He’s getting loose?” Andy replied with surprise.  
“No,” Pete replied through gritted teeth. “I am!”

Andy’s eyes widened at the words. It simply hadn’t occurred to any of them to be prepared for the fact that Pete’s efforts would leave him hungry, very hungry and equally dangerous. Glancing to his left, Andy took in the scene that Pete had never meant him to see. The sight of Patrick drinking Pete’s blood so eagerly with a look of urgency and need firmly fixed on his face had Andy transfixed and momentarily frozen to the spot. Pete’s next words filtered through his haze to strike a crucial chord.

“Andy!” Pete yelled irritably. “If you don’t want to be eaten, get those chains, fast!”

Nodding briefly, Andy spun on his heels and darted from the room. Only moments later, Pete felt a strange sensation that emanated from his torn wrist and spread quickly through his whole body. The tingling flooded his body and without any doubt at all, Pete knew that this was the feeling Spencer had referred to. Patrick was ready to turn.

Pulling his arm away, to Patrick’s initial distress, Pete staggered backwards, cradling his already healing arm. As he felt all sense of control and rationality slip effortlessly away, he realised why young vampires were rarely allowed to turn humans. His eyes glazed and his mind reeled from the shock as he realised to his horror, that he was no longer in control of himself.

Returning less than a minute later, Andy glanced nervously around the room as Pete was nowhere to be seen.

“Pete?” Andy called with a pronounced shake in his voice as he walked a little further into the room.  
“Here!” Pete replied teasingly, dropping from the ceiling to stand behind Andy.

Turning sharply, Andy didn’t see the fist coming, but he felt it keenly. Spinning to the floor, Andy lay dazed and only semi-conscious from the blow. Reaching down and grabbing Andy’s right arm, Pete turned him onto his back.

“You just weren’t quick enough, were you?” Pete taunted. “But that’s okay, I never was one for fast food.”

To Pete’s left as he stood menacingly over Andy, Patrick lay on the bed, frightened, in pain and alone. This was the one thing, the one element that no one had ever mentioned; the excruciating part. The time when the body began the process of change. 

“Pete…” Andy began as he finally managed to shake the fog from his mind. He got no further before Pete dropped to his knees and pressed a hand over Andy’s mouth, silencing him.

“Fear makes the blood taste sweeter,” he commented. “But begging for your life? I don’t know, it gets old real quick.”

From behind, a long taser baton was jammed sharply between Pete’s shoulder blades before Joe flicked the button to bring it to life.

“Beg for your own!” Joe yelled as Pete arched his back in agony, every muscle screaming for release as the tension in them spiralled out of control. 

Finally pulling the taser away, Joe he watched carefully as Pete slipped silently to the floor, ending in a crumpled heap alongside Andy.

“Andy?” Joe queried as Andy lay still, his eyes closed. “Andy!”

The pair lying side-by-side, vampire and human, were both deeply unconscious. Joe frowned as he remembered that Pete had had his hand across Andy’s mouth when he had deployed the taser. Even though Pete pulled back almost immediately, the initial hit from the highly charged baton would have been more than enough to knock Andy out. 

Looking to his left, Joe could see Patrick, apparently in the final throes of changing; confused whimpering and lost cries of pain and concern tugged at the young hunter’s heart-strings. At his feet lay another vampire, his friend, yes, but hungry and with an apparently uncontrollable keenness for human blood. Beside him lay another friend, Andy; an accidental victim.

“Well, you got your wish,” Joe sighed. “It doesn’t look like I’m going anywhere.”


	8. All Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick wakes to uncertainty and where's Pete?

Joe was exhausted. At three-twenty in the morning, by rights, he should have been tucked up in bed, but no, not this night. He had flopped into a chair alongside Patrick’s bed and, satisfied that the two vampires were secured and no longer a threat, he closed his eyes. At least inside a warehouse, he didn’t have to worry about windows in Patrick’s bedroom. All the bedrooms, in fact most of the rooms, were entirely without windows. What windows that had existed had long since been blocked up as a concession made to Pete several months earlier. The time would eventually come when Pete would be able to remain awake beyond dawn and it just made sense to them to allow him as much freedom around the warehouse as possible.

On Pete’s return to them, nearly eighteen months earlier, they had needed a method of restraining him. There were few things they could be absolutely certain would work – quite simply, they had never held a vampire prisoner before.

It had been a necessity, but Patrick had reluctantly constructed a cage. It was strong enough to hold a human, certainly, but Pete’s strength was an unknown quantity at the time. Unwilling to risk Pete’s strength being great enough to break free, Patrick had reinforced the cell by the use of an extension of the idea that had been used to construct the Net Guns. Of course, it worked perfectly on paper but then, most things did! He could only hope desperately would work in practice. 

His theory assumed that passing an electric current back and forth with a random pattern through the bars, plus constantly changing the wave pattern would create a continually fluctuating electro-magnetic field around the occupant that would be too difficult to grow accustomed to. Patrick had seen the draining effect of the Net Guns on hunts and he hoped this larger and more complex version would have a similar desired effect – that of reducing a vampire’s strength to such a level that the simple cage would hold him. A secondary, but equally useful and desirable advantage was that it disrupted the occupant’s brain patterns enough that the mind games and attempts to control, that vampires favoured so much, were impossible.

Of course, it appeared to work, but Pete was never a truly unwilling occupant. He wanted to return to them and understood the need to ensure their safety. For that reason alone, he had never tried to escape. But, Pete believed that it worked, he admitted that he felt weaker within the cell and even though he had never tried to escape, he seemed reasonably confident that it would have been able to hold him. Believing so much in their need to ensure their own safety and as an extra incentive for them to be comfortable that they had made the right decision, even after they had agreed to release him, Pete had insisted that they keep the cell, should the worst happen and they needed it again.

The worst had happened and, once again, inside the cell, Pete lay on the floor, fastened in chains and still unconscious. Joe didn’t want to think about the current situation, but he had been forced to. He desperately hoped that the combination would be strong enough to hold him.  
Dawn was not for another three hours yet, but confident that everyone who needed to be was secured, he allowed his eyes to close. Allowing the pleasant comfort of sleep to wrap around him, Joe felt himself slipping into a comfortable blackness. It lasted about ten seconds.

“Joe?” 

The voice wasn’t loud, but it had already cut through his sleep. It might have seemed selfish, but he was utterly exhausted, Joe decided he was dreaming and ignored it.

“Joe!” came the voice again, more persistent this time.

He wanted, no, he needed sleep, but he wasn’t going to get it. That much he’d worked out. Opening his eyes, Joe turned them towards the bed only to see Patrick staring back at him.  
Immediately, he felt guilty for ignoring the first call to him. There was pain and confusion in Patrick’s eyes and Joe knew he would have to explain what had happened. Though, how he would or could manage that eluded him.

“Patrick, you’re awake,” Joe forced a smile. “How do you feel?”

It was a stupid question. Well, at least that was his first thought, but maybe it wasn’t, maybe it would help? Maybe Patrick would know exactly what had happened and be able to convince him that he wasn’t evil, what to do about Pete and everything would be fine. Even as the thought drifted through his mind, Joe almost laughed at his own stupidity.

“I…” Patrick began. “I’m chained to the bed. Something’s not right.”

Well, he hasn’t lost his sense of humour. Ugh! Joe! You’re an idiot! Concentrate!

“Uh… well… that is… no.”

Perhaps you should have thought that one through a bit more!

“Joe… I… I feel strange… sort of. I can’t explain.”

Joe turned the chair so it faced the bed and leaned forward. How the hell was he going to explain this?

“Trick, do you remember being captured by Beckett?” Joe asked, deciding he should lead up to it slowly.

Patrick nodded. Joe took a deep breath. He could see his friend was scared; they both were, to different degrees and for very different reasons. It was only now that Joe realised that Patrick was using humour to cover up just how scared he truly felt.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Joe asked, uncertain how much he would need to explain.  
Patrick lowered his eyes as he thought. Looking up once more, he continued: “Pete was hungry, Brendon drained him. I was going to be…”

Joe lowered his head as he heard in his head the words that Patrick was about to speak – ‘his first human blood’. Joe was himself surprised at his own reaction, but his eyes would have given it away before any words could. Even hiding his expression didn't help as he discovered that actions really can speak louder than words and Patrick read the sign as easily as if he’d told him outright.

“He drained me, didn’t he?”

Joe nodded, still looking down.

“And then he turned me?”

Joe’s brow furrowed as he heard the catch in Patrick’s throat as he said the words.

“Not there, it was after we escaped. He didn’t want to,” Joe finally found his voice. “You were going to die, we couldn’t let that happen. We made him do it.”  
“I’m a vampire?” 

From the sound of the incredulity in his voice, Patrick hadn’t truly taken it all in, and really, Joe allowed himself the honesty, why should he? He had effectively died, but was still around to discuss it. You don’t get weirder than that.

“I think Pete thinks you’ll hate him,” Joe offered, for want of something else to say.  
Still struggling with the news, Patrick frowned. “I might… if I could feel anything. I always wondered what it was like for Pete. Even thought it might be cool to be…”

As Patrick’s voice tightened, Joe’s head flew up, his eyes wide. Only now did he see just how scared Patrick really was. His eyes had filled with water, and it seemed it would take very little for those tears to spill over his pale cheeks.

“I only wanted to know… I didn’t want to be…” Closing his eyes tightly forced out the tears.  
“Hey!” Joe cried sympathetically. Moving from the chair to the bed, Joe forgot himself and pulled Patrick as much as he was able, despite Andy’s intricate pattern of chains, into a hug. “Nobody wanted this, but we didn’t have a choice.”  
“No…” 

Patrick’s voice sounded suddenly calm, very calm, his grip tightening on Joe’s arms.

“Let go!” Joe cried, suddenly realising that what he thought was a sympathetic hug was in fact, a huge mistake. 

The graze of Patrick’s newly formed fangs against his neck gave him the extra impetus needed to pull away. With a grunt of effort, Joe pulled back, wrenching himself free of Patrick’s grip on him. Pushing with all his might against the bed, Joe crashed back into the chair with enough force to push it backwards several feet. Breathless and scared, Joe turned his eyes back to Patrick. The look on Patrick’s face showed panic, confusion and bewilderment, but, to his surprise and distress, Joe couldn’t help but wonder if what he saw was a cover up or a genuine reaction to his instincts overcoming his personal concerns.

“Joe! I’m so sorry! I don’t know what… I… it just…”  
“You and Pete will stay chained up!” Joe gasped breathlessly. “Until we can figure out what the hell to do with you!”  
“Joe, I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry! It’s an automatic reaction. Like breathing. I wasn’t in control, I am now, I promise you.”   
“How can I be sure?” Joe asked the obvious question. “You could just be saying that to…”  
“Joe, it’s me!” Patrick argued in his own defence.  
“But it isn’t, is it? At least, how can I be sure? Sure that I’m talking, actually talking to Patrick Stump, not just a vampire who’ll say anything to bite me?”  
“Joe… I…”

Patrick was at a loss to answer his question at first, but something occurred to him that had to help. Or at the very least, there was a chance.

“You want to talk to the real Patrick Stump?” 

The question felt strange, but Joe nodded, uncertain how anything Patrick could say could now be trusted or believed.

“Go to my office, on the top shelf, there’s a journal. Everything I’ve learned about newly turned vampires is in there. There’s quite a lot about Pete in there too, so whatever you do, don’t tell him you’ve seen it. I promised him it would be private, but I think you need to read it. You’ll know what to do.”

Joe nodded. He hoped it wasn’t just a trick to get him out of the room, but Andy’s arrangement of chains seemed very secure.

“Okay,” he nodded again. “I’m sorry, Trick, I really am.”

Patrick gave a nod in return as he dropped his head back onto the pillow; it seemed that Andy had not forgotten how to secure someone so that they could barely move. How must Pete have felt in the same situation? No wonder he was bitter.

*

“Joe?” the voice filtered through his hazy mind. “Joe!”

Looking up, his mind fuzzy and confused from lack of sleep, Joe lifted his head from the still open journal to see Andy looking down at him.

“Have you been here all night?” Andy asked the still confused and disorientated hunter.  
“Ah… I… some, yeah.” Joe blinked hard and shook his head. “What time is it?”  
“About nine-fifteen,” Andy replied quickly. “Thanks for saving my life, man. I really thought…”  
Joe smiled as Andy trailed off. “I’m just sorry I got you with the taser as well. You’ve been out for,” Joe paused, “for nearly twelve hours!”  
“Yeah, well, you used one of the modified tasers. Remember? Spencer changed them to take Brendon down. I’m lucky to be alive for two reasons!”  
“Sorry, Andy,” Joe pushed himself upright. “It was the first thing that came to hand. I had to do something quick. I’ve had quite a clean up job trying to get you to bed and Pete secured.”  
Andy nodded. “Where is Pete?”  
“He’s in the cage,” Joe sighed.  
“No, he isn’t,” Andy frowned. “I just walked past it; it’s empty.”  
Joe’s eyes widened. “That’s not possible! He was in there, it was switched on, he was even chained up! What about Trick?”  
“He… he’s okay. He’s asleep. I looked in when I was trying to find you,” Andy replied, shaken by the news.  
“Pete’s escaped,” Joe frowned deeply. “It’s gone dawn, so he’ll be asleep somewhere. He could still be here, if he didn’t get out before dawn.”  
“Either way, we’re in trouble. He could come back here at any time.”  
“And bring anyone with him,” Joe added with concern. “He lives here, he can invite anyone in.”

 

*

Andrea opened her eyes sleepily; it had been such a very long time since she had enjoyed such a good sleep. She couldn’t remember much about the night before, in fact the more she tried to remember anything about the previous night or anything before it, even over the past few months, the hazier things felt. She had a feeling that this should have troubled her more than it did but somehow, she managed to accept it as if forgetting your past was an everyday occurrence.

Stretching her arms out, she felt the cool, crisp cotton sheets of the king-sized four-poster bed and enjoyed the opulence and comfort of her new room. Swinging her legs out of the bed, she glanced appreciatively at the dark blue velvet drapes hung at what had once been windows, but were now mahogany panels. Beneath her feet, the deep pile of the matching carpet caressed her toes as she walked. Yes, she liked her new room a great deal, although, she didn’t recall having an old room. But she must have, mustn’t she? She vividly remembered the conversation as Spencer escorted her to her new room and his mysterious smirk as he told her that the room was one of their best and had only recently been vacated. She wasn’t sure that she liked Spencer. There was something about him that felt wrong, but he seemed to be William’s friend and, as such, she would make herself like him.

The only room she really remembered was William’s. As she thought about him, a smile spread quickly across her face; she loved William with all her heart. Cheerfully, she put aside the fact that she couldn’t even have stated his last name, if asked. There seemed to be so very many details missing, she couldn’t really understand. The more she thought about him, the more she realised that the less she knew. But, somehow it was unimportant; she knew she loved him and that was all that mattered. That, she knew absolutely and without question. She would do anything for him, anything at all.

*

Joe sighed heavily and looked down at Patrick’s notes once more. Alongside, lay a much smaller notebook of his own, into which he had been jotting what seemed to be particularly relevant and important comments. On reviewing the words written the night before, he could see his handwriting had become increasingly erratic and the last few lines didn’t seem to make any sense at all. It looked to all intent and purpose as if he had been lapsing in and out of a dream and had started to write snippets of conversation from the dream in his notes.

“You were tired!” Andy commented, reading over his shoulder. 

Joe gave a sheepish smile as Andy laughed at the nonsensical lines he had written before falling asleep completely. 

“What is it though?” Andy asked as his laughter subsided.  
“They’re Trick’s notes on newly turned vampires. I needed something that I knew was really from him, as he was, not as he is now. Especially since he tried to bite me.”  
“He did what?” Andy cried in astonishment at Joe’s blase mention of being attacked.  
“No! No, Andy,” Joe waved his hands and shook his head. “It was all my fault!”  
“Your fault?” Andy raised a sceptical eyebrow.  
“He… well, he was really upset when he woke up. I mean, wouldn’t you be? Finding out you’re basically dead.”  
“Well, yeah, but, what did you do? How did he get that close to you? Did you remove the chains?”  
“No!” Joe shot back, “you saw him yourself, just before.”

Andy gave a light shrug, Patrick did appear to have the same arrangement of chains that he remembered.

“Well, what then?” he asked.  
“I gave him a hug,” Joe replied feeling foolish even to speak the words, shrugging as Andy shot him an exasperated look. “I forgot! Okay?”  
“But he didn’t bite you?”  
“No,” Joe replied firmly. “I pulled away in time, not even a graze. But… I don’t think he’s evil.”  
“We can’t be sure, Joe, you know as well as I do, it’s not that simple.”  
“I know… I know. But hear me out,” Joe raised his hands almost defensively against Andy’s cynical expression. “What if, like makes like? You know, non-evil vampire makes non-evil vampire?”  
Andy rolled his eyes. “I don’t think so, Joe.”  
“Okay, so why not?” Joe scowled. “Why can’t that be even worth consideration?”  
“Who turned Pete?” Andy’s simple reply gave Joe pause.  
“Beckett,” he sighed his understanding. “Not exactly like for like.”  
“And I wouldn’t go so far as to say non-evil either!” Andy grumbled. “He tried to eat me! No remorse, nothing! At least before, he managed to pretend that he didn’t want to kill people!”  
“Maybe it’s the human blood thing?” Joe began. “Patrick’s kept a lot from us, you know.”  
“What?”  
Joe nodded. “It’s all in here, I mean it was in plain sight, he never hid it from us, we just never read it and he definitely never told us about it.”  
“What’s he kept from us… what…?” Andy struggled to find the right words.  
“Come on,” Joe picked up the book and got to his feet. “I need coffee, I’ll tell you on the way.”

Heading towards the kitchen, at first Joe was completely silent as they passed Patrick’s bedroom. It was morning, there was no way any noise would wake him, but Joe somehow couldn’t bring himself to talk about what he’d read until they were safely ensconced in the kitchen.

“I told you that Patrick suggested that I read his notes?” Joe asked as he reached for the filter bags.  
“Yeah and you were up half the night reading them,” Andy returned sounding more than a little impatient.  
“Yeah well, I read something that surprised me.”  
“What?” The pitch of Andy’s voice rose with his increasing impatience.  
“The night he was supposed to kill Andrea would have been his first human blood, yes? But he didn’t do it and he managed to escape back here.”  
“Joe,” Andy began with forced patience, “will you please get to the bit that surprised you.”  
“I am, but I’ve got to give some background first,” Joe explained. “Or it won’t make sense.”  
“Okay, okay, just hurry up!” Andy gestured with his hand that Joe should speed up his tale.  
“Well, I was just getting to…”  
“Joe!” Andy snapped, exasperated. “What are you trying to tell me?”  
“Well, he was at Beckett’s for three months! What did he eat?”

The words hit Andy like a hammer blow. He had never before considered it. Certainly, he knew that he had never had human blood, and although he loved the smell of it, he had always been able to restrain himself because the smell, he assumed, was good enough, provided he got plenty of Patrick’s specially blended shakes to keep him going.

“D… well… does it say?”  
“Yeah,” Joe nodded solemnly. “It says he fed directly from Beckett himself.”  
“Beckett!” Andy gasped in surprised. “You mean, Beckett fed him or he drank Beckett’s blood?”  
“He drank Beckett’s blood, directly from source,” Joe explained.  
“Why?” Andy asked finally. It was unheard of for a vampire to feed from another, especially one as powerful as Beckett.  
“It doesn’t say, well not outright anyway,” Joe shrugged. “I doubt Pete knew and Patrick’s comments on what Pete told him, he’s actually stated as pure speculation.”  
“Yeah well, Patrick’s speculation is usually pretty much right on the money. What did he say?”  
“Again it’s a lot of open-ended stuff, but he thinks Beckett might have chosen him for a specific task and was strengthening him with his own blood.”  
“Well, he’s certainly strong! He got out of the cage and that takes some doing,” Andy pointed out.  
“And I had him chained too,” Joe commented. “I mean he’s always been strong, but since he drank Patrick’s blood his strength has… tripled!”  
“And his violence.”  
“Yeah,” Joe nodded. “Beckett was up to something. I just wish we knew what.”  
“Will it still matter?” Andy queried. “I mean, after all this time?”  
“Well, he’s put so much time and effort into recapturing him. Yeah, I’d say it still matters. Wouldn’t you?”  
“I guess,” Andy agreed. “Maybe what he wants him for he can still do?”  
“Would explain why he’s still after him.”  
“So, even drinking Beckett’s blood didn’t make him evil? Is there anything else in the book to explain that?”  
Joe shrugged. “Just one of Patrick’s theories, nothing concrete.”  
“Let’s hear it then,” Andy encouraged.  
“Pete was a hunter even before he was turned. We’ve all had combat training and learned the basics of how to try to resist brainwashing and hypnosis techniques. Patrick thinks that training may have kicked in as part of the fight or flight response to being bitten.”

Andy nodded; the adrenalin rush from the fear would have instantly sparked the resistance techniques. It was very plausible that Pete had retained his humanity purely because he was a hunter and had been trained to fight, both physically and mentally.

“So, the same should be true of Patrick.”  
Joe smiled. “I hope so, I mean, even though it was Pete, I expect he put up quite a struggle.”  
“It’s a start,” Andy shrugged. “Now, what about Andrea?”

Joe looked up, a pained expression on his face. Only now did Andy truly take in the depth of feeling his friend had for this woman whom he had not even met.

“I can’t leave Patrick now,” he replied pointing to the journal. “I hate that I can’t help her! I don’t even know if she can be helped by now!”

Andy’s brow creased as Joe’s voice grew increasingly strained.

“It’s not your fault, Joe, we had no choice but to leave,” Andy tried hard to reassure him.  
“I know! I know! And neither was it my fault that Beckett forced his way into her mind to help capture us. I know that Andy! But if I know all this, why…” Joe’s voice dropped to a miserable whisper. “Why do I feel so bad?”  
Andy pulled his friend into a comforting hug. “Because you like her, Joe.”

Joe sagged in his grip as he recognised the plain truth in Andy’s simple statement.

“Look, why don’t you rest? You’re exhausted. I have to find a priest who will let us have holy water, or, at least bless the water we do have. We’ll need to be at our best for tonight.”

Joe nodded; it was daylight, for now they were all safe.

*

“Come in,” Beckett replied to the knock on his office door. The sun had set only thirty minutes earlier and already he was being disturbed.  
“Master William,” a junior Coven member bowed his head as he entered.

Gesturing quickly with his hand for the young vampire to step forward, Beckett smiled at Spencer’s choice. This one had been Spencer’s only attempt at turning a human and Beckett was impressed. Finely defined cheekbones, deep set chocolate brown eyes and a small but well formed mouth; he fitted in to the Coven perfectly.

“What is it, Ryan?”  
“You have… a visitor, Master.”  
“A visitor?”   
“Yes, Master. He arrived at the gates ten minutes ago. Mike’s on duty, he said to let him in that you’d be…”

The sound of crashing and fighting erupted in the corridor outside Beckett’s office. Both angry and alarmed, Beckett rose to his feet, ready to quell the disturbance, only moments before the door flew open and the source of the noise stepped confidently into the room. A slow smile formed on Beckett’s face, which promptly fell into an expression of shocked confusion as the newcomer sank to one knee and lowered his head.

“Master William,” he greeted him respectfully.  
“Peter,” Beckett’s smile returned and broadened further. “This is a most unexpected pleasure.”


	9. It’s a lot like chicken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Beckett trust Pete and Spencer taunts Brendon

Beckett looked toward the young vampire who had announced his arrival.

“Leave us,” then almost as an afterthought. “Who‘s in the corridor?”  
“Just Mike, Master William,” Ryan replied puzzled over where Beckett was heading.  
“Is Spencer aware of this?”  
“Not that I know of, Master, I haven’t seen him tonight.”  
“Well, then, inform Mike that no one is to know about this until I’m ready. Including Spencer.”  
“Yes, Master William,” Ryan retreated from the room, leaving Pete alone with Beckett.

Beckett leaned back on his desk and folded his arms across his chest as he looked down at Pete still kneeling. Taking a few steps forward, Beckett smiled thoughtfully as Pete remained, unmoving.   
With considerable force, Beckett swung a long slender leg into Pete’s abdomen, sending him spinning across the room, finally crashing against the wall with tremendous force.

“Master!” Ryan’s voice could be heard beyond the door. “Is everything all right?”

Pulling the door open furiously, Beckett glared at the vampire only two months younger than Pete, but the difference was quite remarkable. Pete’s special treatment had made him strong, unbelievably strong for one so young. He had always been cocky, but vampirism had only made him worse and the mixture of strength and confidence made him perfect for the task Beckett wanted him to perform. But first, he would make him suffer for the many months of trying desperately to reclaim him.

“Go away, Ryan!” Beckett growled angrily. “When I want you, I’ll call for you!”

By the time Beckett had closed the door and turned around, he stepped back suddenly at the sight of Pete only inches from him. A heftily swung punch floored Beckett in an instant. It had been so very unexpected and he found himself skittering backwards, unable to keep his balance. Spreading out his arms behind him, he managed to break his fall.

“So, your pride gets the better of you and you give yourself away,” Beckett snapped as he rose quickly to his feet.

Focussing all his powers, Beckett unleashed a wave of energy that lifted Pete from his feet and sent him crashing back against the desk. Gasping with shock and pain, Pete writhed and struggled, frustrated that Beckett was able to hold him against the front panel with apparent ease. 

“I should have realised your real purpose for coming here,” Beckett sneered. “Did you honestly think I could be so easily fooled?”  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Pete growled through gritted teeth as Beckett held him pinned effortlessly.  
“We’ll see, shall we?” Beckett snapped. 

Invading Pete’s mind, Beckett tore into both his conscious and sub-conscious thoughts with all the disregard of a thief ransacking a house. The pain inside his head hit Pete like an explosion. At first he fought against it, trying to throw up walls against the onslaught, a natural reaction for the trained hunter, but he was soon overpowered by Beckett’s greater strength. The excruciating pain and turmoil inside Pete’s mind rapidly reduced him to a limp, semi-conscious heap hanging helplessly against the desk, still held firmly by Beckett’s power. 

“What are you up to, Peter?”

The words echoed in his mind. Pete wasn’t certain if Beckett had actually spoken or not, but his reply was a whispered jumble of words.

“N…nothing…I…Master, p…please!”

Beckett frowned when he found nothing to indicate a trick or trap of any kind. Withdrawing slowly, Beckett smiled cruelly as Pete gasped and slumped heavily to the floor, his back no longer pinned to the desk.

“Get up!” he ordered harshly, inconsiderate of Pete’s continued pain and disorientation.

Beckett looked on, a self-satisfied smirk plastered across his face as Pete struggled to co-ordinate his limbs.

“Are you defying me, Peter?” he demanded, as after thirty seconds Pete still lay on the floor unable to summon the strength to raise himself.  
“N…no, Master William… but I…” Pete stammered, his mind still reeling from the attack.  
“You know you deserve to be punished, don’t you?” Beckett revelled in torturing Pete, even though the search of his thoughts revealed that his return to the mansion appeared to be genuine.  
“Because I left?” Pete asked weakly.  
“Yes, because you left, but mostly because you dared to hit me!” Beckett growled at the memory.  
“But you…” Pete began, only to be interrupted.  
“You are not my equal, Peter! If I choose to beat you, torture you or even kill you, I will do just that and you will accept it without question! Do you know why?”  
Slowly recovering from the assault on his mind, Pete nodded his understanding. “Because you’re my master.”  
“That’s right,” Beckett sneered, enjoying seeing him finally subservient. Walking to the desk, Beckett reached out a hand to help Pete to his feet. “Now, I believe we have things to discuss.”

*

“When do you suppose he’ll wake up?” Andy asked as he glanced again at his watch.  
“It’s only just after five, it’s still early yet,” Joe shrugged.   
“The sun set half an hour ago. Pete gets up at sunset.”  
“No,” Joe corrected him with a chuckle, “Patrick wakes him at sunset. You’ve seen what he looks like, he can barely sit up for the first fifteen minutes.”  
Andy smiled in return as he thought about the terminology as it would apply to a vampire. “No, Pete’s not an early evening person.”

A sudden intake of breath startled the pair. Turning their heads back towards the bed, they were in time to see Patrick try desperately to sit up, his eyes wide with alarm.

“Pete!” he cried, trembling and straining on the chains and growing ever more panic-stricken as they held firm.  
“Trick it’s okay! You’re safe, calm down!” Andy called out as they both rushed forward.

Andy gave Patrick’s arm a gentle and reassuring squeeze.

“Careful,” Joe warned. “Don’t forget, like I did.”

Patrick stared up at his friends, almost unseeing as they tried to reassure him.

“Patrick!” Joe tried to sound calm despite his own concern regarding the sudden outburst. “It’s okay, relax, it’s okay!”  
“No… no! Pete!” Patrick replied, breathless in his panicked state.  
“He’s not here,” Andy admitted, before adding. “We’ll let you know when he’s back, I promise.”

Patrick sighed heavily with relief and exhaustion and allowed his head to flop back onto the pillow, sweat glistening on his brow.

“You don’t understand,” Patrick breathed hard against what would normally have been a racing pulse. “Beckett’s torturing him.”  
“Beckett!” Andy and Joe cried almost in unison with Andy continuing on his own. “How do you know?”  
“I can feel it,” Patrick replied, his own sensation of pain subsiding.  
“He has a link with Pete,” Joe explained. “Beckett captured him again?”

Patrick paused for a few moments as he examined the link and the feelings that came with it; more information coming to him as the pain dipped. A frown formed on his already troubled face.

“I don’t… I don’t think so.”  
Joe closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “He went back?”

Patrick nodded silently.

“I was afraid that might happen,” Joe replied somewhat mysteriously.  
“You read my notes?”  
“Yeah,” Joe nodded.   
“What?” Andy cut in feeling excluded from the knowledge the pair shared.  
“Only senior vampires are allowed to turn humans,” Patrick explained. “It’s not just a status thing, it takes a lot of power. You know now that Pete was stronger than any vampires his age because he fed from Beckett for three months.”  
“You should have told us, Patrick,” Joe cut in.  
“Why?”   
“What?”  
“Why?” Patrick repeated. “What purpose would it have served? Pete was terrified you’d mistrust him. He asked me to keep it to myself, so I did.”  
“You put us at risk,” Joe pressed.  
“No,” Patrick shook his head. “I kept a confidence, that’s all. Do you really think I’d risk your lives?”  
“But he could have been…”  
“But he wasn’t!” Patrick stated firmly. “And you all agreed. It was irrelevant and it remains irrelevant.”  
“Enough!” Andy interrupted, growing increasingly agitated by the lack of information. “What happened to Pete?”

Patrick licked his dry lips, frowning as his tongue picked out his fangs, which, even while retracted were still unusually sharp and unfamiliar to him.

“Turning a human is draining,” Patrick explained. “Physically… and mentally. Pete was strong enough to do it, but wouldn’t have been prepared for the effects.”  
“You… you mean… he’s gone crazy?”  
Patrick drew his lips into a thin line and nodded. “Probably.”

Andy’s mouth fell open, his breathing quickened, almost staggering as he paled.

“Andy?” Joe made a grab for his arms to stop him falling. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”  
“I… I made him… I made him do it!” he stammered. “Patrick was going to die. I didn’t know, he didn’t say anything!”  
“Hey!” Joe shook him gently. “You didn’t know, man, it’s not your fault!”  
“Did…” Andy turned back to look at Patrick. “Did he know?”  
Patrick nodded solemnly. “Yeah, he knew.”

*

“Comfortable?”

Brendon looked up slowly, his eyes tired and heavy. Opening his mouth to speak, he found his mouth and throat were dry, making speech all the more difficult. Already weakening, rather than rushing in an instant to the cell’s bars, he pushed himself to his feet, carefully and slowly. Turning his gaze beyond the bars, he cast a deep loathing glare at Spencer, who merely returned with condescending laughter.

“Laugh while you can, Spencer,” Brendon fought against the scratchy sensation in his parched throat. “I’ll get out of here and…”  
“How?” Spencer laughed again. “You won’t get out. William despises you now; he thinks you betrayed him. You’re here to starve, Brendon. A nice slow, painful process, then he’ll probably kill you. I think I’ll suggest he does… out of kindness.”  
“He’ll figure it out!” Brendon pouted. “He’s not stupid, you know!”  
“No,” Spencer agreed, “but he doesn’t have to be. He just has to think that you are.”

Spencer chuckled at Brendon’s expression that fell somewhere between panic and anger. 

“He’ll know as soon as he realises I did everything he asked me to.”  
“Did he ask you to free the prisoners?” Spencer asked raising an eyebrow.  
“I didn’t do that,” Brendon’s face twisted into a furious grimace. “You did!”  
“Are you going to tell him?” Spencer asked, before raising a finger in an exaggerated movement. “Ah! You can’t can you? Not even telepathically. Has he forbidden it, dear Brendon?”

Brendon glanced down in frustration, his fists balled tightly as he tried to maintain his composure.

“Oh!” Spencer mocked. “He’s blocked you out, hasn’t he? You couldn’t reach him if you tried.”

Brendon’s anger bubbled over and he flew at the bars reaching for Spencer, who had the advantage of speed over the weakened Brendon. Stepping back out of harm's way, he offered his rival a smirk.

“I’ve got nothing to fear now, not now you’re disgraced and safely locked up. You can’t reach me from in here.”  
“When Master finds out that Pete drained Patrick, he’ll know then!”

Spencer shook his head with a soft chuckle; his next words designed to cut through Brendon’s last hope.

“And just who do you think is going to tell him that?”

 

*

Beckett waved a hand lazily towards a chair, indicating that Pete should sit. Instead of taking a seat, Pete’s eyes remained firmly fixed on Beckett’s arm. One corner of Beckett’s mouth curled up as he noticed Pete’s fixed and glazed stare.

“Are you hungry, Peter?”

Looking up at the one he called ‘Master’, Pete nodded vigorously. Despite his strength, it hadn’t been a simple task escaping from the cage and he had been forced to wait until he knew that both Andy and Joe had been asleep so that the noise of him breaking the lock would go unheard. Once out of the cage, he had had a number of choices but the one he had chosen surprised him. He had fled the warehouse and set off in search of Beckett’s mansion. That wasn’t the part that confused him; after turning Patrick, that was always going to be his ultimate destination. No, what confused him more than anything was what he didn’t do. In the warehouse, alone in his bedroom, Andy slept soundly in his bed. In Patrick’s office, Joe lay slumped over Patrick’s books. Also in his own bedroom, Patrick lay chained and helpless.   
As Pete thought more about it, within easy reach in the warehouse, there were two perfectly satisfactory meals and a present for his master. Why hadn’t he taken advantage? He had simply fled and sought shelter through the day in an abandoned mausoleum in the cemetery near Beckett’s mansion.

Pete tried to rationalise it, but knew that he couldn’t. If he had told Beckett that he had the opportunity to kill two hunters and passed it over, the torture would begin again in a mere blink of an eye. It seemed highly unlikely that Beckett would believe he had simply been anxious to escape and return. 

Pete was desperately hungry. He had given the bulk of his blood back to Patrick in order to turn him. He had not fed afterwards, although, he did have a vague recollection of trying to do so, but couldn’t remember any of the details. The period of time around the turning had been a complete blur and he had recalled nothing. He realised that he must either have passed out, or been rendered unconscious in some way, but the details were lost to him. Waking hours later to find himself locked inside the cage with his wrists and ankles fastened in chains had come as something of a shock to him. It had taken him almost twenty minutes to free himself.

And what of Patrick? Surely he would have made a fine gift for his master? Although Patrick was awake and able to raise the alarm, Pete knew he could have easily overpowered his new fledgling vampire. Then what? Take him to Beckett? Let Beckett see that a physically capable, but young vampire had turned a human without permission? It was… unthinkable! Before he had left all that time ago, he had seen the consequences when a junior vampire had tried to turn a human. It hadn’t worked; the young vampire was simply not strong enough to do it. The effort had taken its toll on him and by the time he had been found, the human was dead and the vampire insane, screaming and foaming at the mouth.

Beckett had killed the young vampire… eventually. Although, it had been a mercy killing, it had not come immediately. Despite the junior member’s obvious new-found insanity, the angry coven leader had decided not to make his final exit from the world a graceful or painless one. By the time Beckett had finished torturing him, there hadn’t been much left to kill.

In addition to this, for Pete to have to say that the remaining hunters were still alive! Pete’s disorientated mind struggled with the ‘what if’ scenarios. If he was prepared to be honest, at least with himself, he had no idea why he had let them go, but he had and now, somehow, he had to hide that fact. The intense search of his mind hadn’t revealed it, almost certainly because Beckett wasn’t looking for that sort of information. Neither had he asked. And Pete had no intention of volunteering any information about the others and why they were still alive – it was easily the safest option.

Pete watched, hungrily, ravenous, almost salivating, as Beckett took a seat and gestured for Pete to kneel next to him. Unfastening the cufflinks that adorned his shirtsleeve, Beckett, pulled the crisp white cotton away from his wrist and offered it to Pete.

Hesitating for only a moment, Pete cupped Beckett’s hand in his own and moved his head toward the wrist, extending his fangs as he did. Sinking his razor sharp teeth into Beckett’s soft skin on the inside of his arm, Pete’s eyes nearly rolled back in their sockets as the strong, powerful blood flooded his mouth. Only a few mouthfuls would have been enough to sate Pete’s desperate thirst, but Beckett allowed him to continue.

“Drink,” Beckett encouraged. “Regain your strength. I have an important task for you.”

*

Andrea’s head snapped up as her mind suddenly cleared. Fighting Beckett’s control over her had become almost a full-time occupation for her sub-conscious mind. Yes, he had found it easy enough to take control of her conscious mind and if he had given her the right amount of credit for the level of independence and strength she possessed, then he would have made the extra effort to control her sub-conscious mind too.

She had no idea what had done it, but Beckett was distracted, somehow weakened and for the first time since he had stared deep into her eyes and exerted his power relinquishing her of her free will, she finally felt in control of her own thoughts.

Vaguely, she remembered William telling her that the others had escaped, leaving her with him. If that were true, then she only had herself to worry about, but she fully intended to make damn sure she found out why they had left her there.

William appeared to have underestimated her a great deal. She had no idea how old he was, knowing that his youthful good looks were eternal, but as the head of a large and feared coven, he must have been very powerful. She herself could attest to the extent some of that power. So, maybe that made him old, possibly even a hundred years or more? Perhaps in his day, women weren’t allowed minds of their own? From what she had seen, all his coven members were male and all very handsome. Perhaps he didn’t believe she could fight back? Perhaps, and was more likely the case, the question hadn’t even crossed his mind.

Reaching for the door handle, she found herself surprised when she could actually turn it. She opened the door gently, allowing herself a small smile as she stepped through into the corridor.

“Miss Logan.”

Andrea gasped in surprise at the sound of the voice. Looking to her right, she was surprised to see Spencer waiting in the corridor, leaning on the balcony rail almost opposite her room.

“Spencer,” she hesitated as she tried to think of something to say. To all intent and purpose, she was a prisoner and while she had been under William’s control, she had been a willing one, but no longer. The question was, was she to be treated as one? “I was hoping to see William,” she lied.  
“William will call for you when he wants you,” Spencer replied dryly. “Has he called?”  
“No,” Andrea replied quietly. There was something very intimidating about Spencer. He looked like the cat that got the cream and was fully determined not to spill a drop.  
“Then you can’t see him,” Spencer returned abruptly with a slight wave of his hand indicating that she should return to her room.

She hated his arrogance.

“Am I allowed to walk the grounds?”  
“No,” he replied quickly, not bothering to consider the question.  
“I’m William’s prisoner?”  
Spencer frowned deeply at the question. “No, you’re his guest.”  
“Then why are you insisting that I stay in my room?” Andrea snapped back, trying to maintain the neutral attitude she knew she had felt when under control.

Spencer’s shoulders sagged. William wanted the human; he liked her. As much as Spencer privately ridiculed the idea, he could say nothing to risk his position.

“It’s not safe,” he offered an alternative reason.  
“Why?” Andrea pushed. “You all know that I belong to William, don’t you?”  
“Yes,” Spencer sighed; he could see where this was leading.  
“And is there a single vampire here that would defy their master?”  
“No.”  
“Not even you, Spencer?”   
“Especially not me,” Spencer returned.  
“Then allow me to wander the grounds!”  
“I told you, it’s not safe! And not from us, from hunters.”  
“I’m not a vampire,” Andrea pushed again.  
“Fine!” Spencer snapped, losing his temper. “I’ll call you an escort.”  
“I don’t need…” Andrea began.  
“It’s not a case of your needs,” Spencer explained. “William doesn’t want you left alone. I’m sure Ryan won’t mind showing you the gardens.”

*

“You know I’m going to have to sit up for this, don’t you?” Patrick reminded his friends, not taking his eyes off the large glass of pig’s blood blended with garlic and some Holy Water collected by Andy earlier in the day.

Andy and Joe exchanged glances and Andy shrugged. It was either remove some of the chains, or watch Patrick struggle not to tip the contents of the glass all over himself. Withdrawing a small key from his pocket as he stared at the complex arrangement of restraints, Andy finally worked out the fewest number of chains he could remove to allow Patrick to sit up and hold the glass.

“I’m not going to attack you,” Patrick finally sighed.  
“Would you believe you?” Andy asked as he unlocked Patrick’s left hand and stepped quickly backwards.  
“No,” the newly turned vampire agreed. “Probably not.”  
“Andy, do we have to…”  
“He’s right,” Patrick interrupted. “I haven’t had any blood yet and you don’t know how I’m going to react.”  
“I think we’ve got a pretty good idea!” Joe’s exasperated tone was clear in his voice.  
“Yeah, well, maybe,” Patrick agreed. “But even I’m not certain and 'a pretty good idea' won’t save your life if you’re wrong.”

Joe nodded. He was certain that Patrick wasn’t evil, despite, or maybe even because of what had happened when he had hugged him. A truly evil vampire wouldn’t have hesitated. Or so he preferred to believe, anyway.

Taking the shake from Joe’s hand and sitting somewhat awkwardly, Patrick put the blood to his lips and began to drink. By the time he reached the bottom of the glass, he felt better, calmer, more relaxed. Except for one thing.

“Do you always stare at people when they eat?” Patrick asked handing the glass back.

Both Joe and Andy were caught off guard. Neither had considered the question and had been transfixed at the sight of Patrick drinking blood. They didn’t know why, but somehow it was very different to Pete. Neither would Joe have managed to ask his next question of the perpetually surly Pete.

“What’s it like?” he asked with a slight crease of his brow, almost as if he were afraid to ask.  
“It’s a lot like chicken,” Patrick replied with more than a hint of a smile.


	10. Spencer Falls From Favour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even the best laid plans can go very wrong

“You’re not serious?” Joe asked, his brow creasing with the words. “Chicken?”  
“No,” Patrick laughed. “But it does taste surprisingly good. I mean, I wouldn’t recommend it for you, vampire taste buds are, apparently, well… a little different.”  
“Can I ask another question?” Joe asked hesitantly.  
“Sure,” Patrick replied, with concern, detecting the uncertainty in Joe’s voice.  
“You,” Joe began, “you seem to be taking this really well. I mean… you’re accepting it better than Pete. Way better than I could. I… I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’m surprised.”  
“Hmm, yeah,” Patrick nodded. “I can’t really speak for Pete, he’s got other issues, but there’s something inherent about the change that makes it feel normal.”  
“But you don’t seem so…”  
“Angry?” Patrick offered.  
“No,” Joe agreed.  
“You see Pete angry and you think he’s angry at what he is. I realise now that that’s not the case. That’s the easy part to deal with.”  
“What’s the hard part?” Andy asked, joining the conversation.  
“I’m not the one that has to accept this. You do.” Patrick admitted. “Yeah, I want to drink blood now and provided I keep a check on myself and do the right things, you’ll be safe. And I know that, but, you can’t trust me any more, not fully and I know that too. That’s the hard part. I wouldn’t have bitten you, Joe. I was just a bit overwhelmed when I first woke.”  
Joe smiled and nodded.  
“So why is Pete so angry but you’re not?” Andy asked, still unsure whether the question had been answered.  
“Pete’s angry at Beckett and his coven. How can I be angry at the person who turned me?”  
“Pete?”  
“And me for making him do it,” Andy added.  
Patrick smiled. “I can be angry at Beckett for what he did to Pete in the first place, and for forcing Pete’s bloodlust to make him try to kill me. But I understand that you both did what you did because you wanted to save my life.”  
“But, real food, daylight and all that other stuff?”  
Patrick offered a small shrug. “You’ve got to understand, it changes your priorities. You’d think you’d miss all that, but… it’s not there. I’m still me, but with different needs.”  
“How do we know it’s still you?” Andy asked with a frown.   
“Well,” Patrick sighed. “You don’t and I can’t prove it to you. You’ve read my notes, so I guess you know my theory on why Pete isn’t evil.”  
“He tried to eat me!” Andy grumbled.  
“He probably won’t even remember that,” Patrick observed. “He would have been really out of it at the time.”  
“Well, it’s not something I can forget in a hurry.”  
“Can you forgive him?” asked Patrick, partly for Pete, partly testing the waters for his own condition.  
“Well, if he’s back with Beckett, it’s probably better if I don’t. He can’t be trusted, no vampire can! I… Patrick… I… I’m sorry! I didn’t mean you.”

Patrick lowered his eyes. Andy’s contradictory responses reminded him of how they had all been when Pete first returned to them. How they wanted to trust him, but couldn’t. Patrick nodded his understanding. 

“It’s okay. When you’re ready to, I hope you’ll just accept it.”  
“And if we can’t or we don’t know when?” Andy asked hesitantly. “Or if you’re really not?”  
“Well, then I hope you’ll kill me.”

Andy and Joe’s eyes widened at the words. Of all the things they had expected Patrick to say, that certainly wasn’t one of them.

“Kill you?” Joe managed to say.  
“Yeah,” Patrick nodded sincerely. “I don’t want to stay chained up forever. If you can never trust me, then you at least have to release me that way.”  
“I can’t do that,” Joe shook his head.  
“Then I hope you trust me,” Patrick’s expression was a mask of sincerity. “This is not how I want to spend eternity.”

Andy took a deep breath at the words; it was quite an ultimatum.

“Can we get you anything?” he asked finally.  
“Umm… I could probably manage another one of those,” Patrick replied pointing at the empty glass.  
“Er… yeah,” Andy nodded, “there’s plenty left.”

*

Pete withdrew slowly from Beckett’s wrist and, licking his lips clean of all remaining blood, looked up expectantly. He was surprised to see that Beckett appeared almost asleep. Leaning back in the chair, eyes closed, a slight smile on his handsome, boyish face.

Pete’s eyes opened wide as suddenly, he realised where he was. Recoiling, he dropped Beckett’s hand, causing the vampire leader to open his eyes once more. Staring at Pete, Beckett frowned at the shocked expression on Pete’s face as he still knelt beside him.

“What’s wrong, Peter?” Beckett asked as his frown deepened at Pete’s response.  
“M… Master,” Pete recovered quickly, trying to hide his shock and discomfort as he came to his senses once more. “I thought something was wrong. When I looked up… you were…”

Beckett smiled, accepting Pete’s explanation.

“You’ve forgotten, haven’t you?” he smoothed Pete’s hair as he spoke. “I need to do this to make you strong enough for my task, but it drains me.”  
“What is my task, Master William?” Pete asked, keen to know why he had been fed Beckett’s blood for so long.

Beckett’s mouth lengthened into a broad grin as he thought about the plan he had spent almost two years perfecting.

“Next week, there is a Coven Leaders meeting. All six leaders will be there. I have told them that I am bringing you, my rogue vampire, with me. That you are now back under my control and I am presenting you to them as a gift. Initially, it was supposed to be for forgiveness of one of Brendon’s more serious transgressions, but we do not mention that name in this Coven any more. Nevertheless, I will hand you over.”  
“Master?” Pete ventured, assuming he ought to sound shocked by the proposal.  
“Don’t worry, you will be returning with me. I will show them how you are changed by your drinking of human blood in front of them. A nice touch would have been to have you kill one of your hunter friends, but no matter, I have something almost as good. The human girl you were originally going to take as your first kill, she is here and will serve well enough. What the Coven Leaders don’t know is that after drinking my blood for so long, human blood will, temporarily, make you far stronger than you could imagine. Most of the leaders are less than one hundred years old; they will be no match for us. Between us we will kill them all and I will give their seconds the ultimatum – serve us or die. My Coven will reign supreme above all others, there will be no one to interfere with my plans beyond this city.”

Pete stared up, open-mouthed. Beckett’s coven was already universally known and feared. The idea that they may move on other coven’s territories and weak havoc in other cities, spreading their own brand of terror and corruption on a state, country or even worldwide basis was unimaginable. And what had he meant about Brendon? How could he have fallen so quickly from grace?

“We have to wait?” Pete replied, playing the part to fool Beckett.  
“Not yet, I’ve waited nearly two years for this, I can wait a few more days.” Beckett shook his head, his jaw length soft brown hair falling gently across his pale cheeks. “First, I think we should announce your return to us.”

Without his hat, cape and all the other trappings of decadence he loved so much, he looked so much younger. Perhaps, as a young vampire starting his own coven, he felt he needed his props to command respect. It was not until later that he realised that it was power and the ability to instil fear that commanded respect in the vampire world. Those qualities he had in abundance. The guise he had created for himself only added to his air of self-importance. He was a vampire to be feared, and he would use Pete to show how much.

“Ah!” Beckett smiled at the soft knock on the door. “Perfect timing. Enter!”

The door opened to reveal Spencer, holding a struggling human boy, roughly in his mid-teens. Pete tried hard not to react, but he knew instinctively that this was to be Beckett’s meal. He couldn’t sit back and allow Beckett to kill the boy, but without giving himself away, what could he do? It was time to tell Beckett who really released them. Perhaps with some judicial use of the truth, Pete could divert Beckett and avoid telling him that, despite his supposed new-found allegiance, his friends were still alive and… relatively well. 

Rising to his feet, Pete scowled at Spencer who stared back wide-eyed and stunned in return.

“You have this traitor bringing you your food now, Master William?”  
“William, what is this?” Spencer appeared both angry and confused, throwing the frightened young boy to the floor at Beckett’s feet.  
“Traitor?” Beckett turned a furrowed brow towards Pete.  
“Shut up, Wentz!” Spencer snapped. “William, he’s lying to you! Don’t listen to him.”  
“I saw your face when you walked in, Spencer, before he said a word. Peter, why is Spencer a traitor?”  
“William!” Spencer cried. “Don’t! He’s trying to trick you!”  
“He was the one who let them go!” Pete announced. “I was draining Patrick when they tasered Brendon, then me. When I woke up, I was in chains and locked in a cage in their base!” He continued, leaving out some crucial points.  
“You fed from Patrick? Human blood, that could explain it,” Beckett said as, in his mind, the explanation for Pete’s return presented itself.  
“No!” Spencer cried. “It means nothing! He’s lying!”  
“Peter,” Beckett flicked a finger in Spencer’s direction. “Stop short of killing him.”

For the first time in the entire conversation, Pete didn’t have to pretend. Glad too, that Beckett was distracted from the boy, who had now crawled to one side, huddled in terror.

“My pleasure!”

 

*

 

Patrick gasped as another wave of information reached him from Pete. Unused to the experience, Patrick seemed blindsided by the rush of noise and garbled words entering his mind.

“What’s wrong?” Joe asked, concerned by Patrick’s sudden paleness; his eyes opening and closing rapidly.  
“P…Pete,” Patrick choked out. “He’s trying to tell me something, b…but it’s too much.”

Patrick arched his back as a repeat of the flood of information filled his mind, like a thousand voices calling at once.

“Stop! P…please stop it!” he cried, pain flooding his entire body.   
“What can I do?” Joe asked quickly, wishing he could help, but doubting he could.

Patrick’s response was merely to screw up his face against the pain. Placing his free hand on his forehead, he again pulled on the chains to no effect. Subsiding as quickly as it had started, Patrick’s body fell limp on the bed, shuddering and breathing heavily as he regained his equilibrium.

“Are you okay? What was he saying?” Joe asked, relieved that his friend’s pain had been replaced by sheer exhaustion.  
“It was hard to understand,” Patrick mumbled. “Something about a girl, his first kill, he…”  
“He’s going to kill her?” Joe pulled back in horror.  
“I don’t… ‘Stop short of killing’ … umm… I can’t make sense, there’s too much. Something about Spencer.”  
“I’m sorry, Patrick, I have to get back there now. I can’t let him kill her!” 

Joe was already heading out the door before Patrick could react. 

“Joe!” he called. “No, wait, you don’t understand!”

His cry fell on deaf ears. Pulling again frustratedly on the chains, Patrick cursed his situation for not being able to stop him.

“Joe!”

*

“So, you’re Ryan?” Andrea asked as the pair roamed the moonlit gardens.  
“Yes, Miss Logan.”  
“Please call me Andrea,” she had no idea whether appealing to a vampire’s better nature could work. Or even if a vampire had a better nature, but she was willing to try anything to escape.  
“I can’t do that, Miss Logan,” Ryan replied quietly. “Only Master William can call you that.”

Andrea stopped near a fragrant Evening Jasmine bush and took in the rich scent. 

“Tell me about yourself, Ryan,” she asked as she took a seat near to enjoy the sweet heady perfume of the jasmine.

“What do you want to know?” there was a hint of suspicion in the young vampire’s tone, but not enough to be threatening.  
“What did you do before you were a vampire? How long ago? Do you like it?” Andrea offered a few sample questions to start what she hoped would be an enlightening discussion.

Ryan turned eyes towards her that seemed to hold an almost confused expression.

“I’ve been a vampire for nearly two years, the rest is irrelevant.”  
“Irrelevant?” Andrea’s eyebrows rose at the words. “Then, what does all this mean to you?”  
“Mean?” Ryan shook his head as if she had asked something outlandish. “I serve my master.”  
“William?”  
“Yes, I serve Master William.”

There was something odd about the way he had phrased his replies, that she couldn’t quite put her finger on but it had become more than apparent to her that Ryan was not to be appealed to; she didn’t believe he’d know what to do with an appeal if she made one.

“I’d like to see what’s down there,” she pointed down the slight grassy slope.  
“I’m sorry, Miss Logan, but my instructions are to show you the gardens only.”  
“But it’s still within the grounds, I asked for a tour of the grounds.”  
“My Master said the gardens only,” Ryan replied, stepping between Andrea and the lawns.  
“Your master? Your master is Spencer?”

Ryan looked up, confused by her words. 

“No, I mean, yes, but he serves Master William.”  
“And if there was ever any conflict between the two?” Andrea pressed. “Who would you back?”  
“Master Spencer,” Ryan replied, a quizzical expression on his face. “But that’s true of all of us. We owe allegiance to the one who made us.”

Andrea frowned thoughtfully. Spencer was a sly one, more even than she had realised. He had admitted to her himself that the entire coven served only William, and yet, here he was training Ryan to believe that his loyalty was first and foremost to Spencer. Spencer played a dangerous game, but one that largely succeeded on the basis that vampires rarely even spoke to each other, never mind confide.

“Ryan,” Andrea smiled. “William is calling for me. I’d like you to take me to him please.”  
“I’m sure I’d be aware if he was,” Ryan replied calmly.  
“Are you going to ignore your Master’s wishes just because he hasn’t spoken to directly to such a young vampire? He told me he would call for me when he wanted me. He’s calling to me now, directly to me, but I don’t know my way around.”  
“My apologies, Miss Logan, I’ll take you to him.”

*

Pete’s grin broadened into a sneer as he launched himself at Spencer, who, in turn, narrowed his eyes. He had heard of the beating the other coven members had received courtesy of Pete and although he knew their capabilities he found it difficult to believe that a vampire of only two years could possibly cause so much damage. That was, of course, until Pete hit him. The strength in Pete’s punch sent him careering into the wall behind him; slamming into the mahogany panels, cracking and splintering one. 

Sliding to the floor, momentarily dazed, Spencer reeled as Pete sat astride him delivering blow after blow. Leaning in, Pete’s fangs lengthened.

“Do not bite him, Peter, you must take no other blood than mine.”  
“Yours!” Spencer cried as he now understood Pete’s unnatural strength.

Clearing his mind as best he could, Spencer reached up, seizing Pete’s throat, squeezing with all his strength. Pete clawed at the hand, trying without success to peel Spencer’s fingers back.

Behind the struggling pair, William was frowning; Spencer was very strong, almost as strong as Brendon had been, but if Pete wasn’t able to beat Spencer in a fight, then perhaps he wasn’t strong enough for his plan after all? It was not what he wanted to see.

“I’m gonna rip your throat out, Wentz!”

Pete saw red; Spencer would not beat him. Even when trapped in Beckett’s mansion the first time, most of Beckett’s lackeys were at least bearable, but not this one. No, he had somehow seen Spencer for what he was – ambitious, self-serving and highly dangerous. At the time, he wondered how Beckett had allowed him to remain so close to him given his obvious power-hungry tendencies. But maybe that was exactly why Beckett had kept him close? Why he had so easily accepted the accusations against him and why Pete had the pleasure of making him pay for it, now. It had not occurred to Pete that although Beckett did indeed accept the accusations, he wanted to test Pete’s strength more than anything.

Grimacing with pain and frustration, Pete balled a fist and landed a punch into Spencer’s throat. Instantly, Spencer’s fingers lost their vice-like grip on Pete, but refusing to give up his slight advantage, before Pete could pull his hand away, Spencer bent his right leg and used it as leverage to roll over, pinning Pete underneath him. Staring up as Spencer grinned maniacally at him, Pete’s eyes narrowed with anger. Raising his own leg, Pete slammed his foot into Spencer’s chest, propelling him half way across the room. 

*

“Andy!” Patrick yelled for the fourth time.

This time he heard footsteps hurrying towards him. As Andy ran, the blood in the glass sloshed up the side, and once spilled over the top, depositing some of the viscous liquid on his hand. Scowling at the mess oozing between his fingers, Andy made a mental note to wash his hands as soon as possible.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as he almost skidded into the bedroom.  
“Joe’s gone,” Patrick announced, not entirely certain how he could explain it, so many pieces were missing.  
“Where? What happened?”  
“I got a message from Pete, but it was noisy, garbled, I couldn’t understand half of it.”  
“But enough to freak Joe out?” Andy asked placing the glass on the table and wiping his hands.  
“He said something about a girl,” Patrick replied with a great deal of uncertainty. “That he had to go back and stop Pete killing her.”  
“Pete’s going to kill Andrea?” Andy frowned. “No wonder he left. I have to get after him!”  
“No!” Patrick shouted as Andy turned to leave. “I deciphered the message, he’s not going to kill her. He’s come to his senses and is pretending to follow William until he can escape, but there’s a girl there… Andrea?”  
“She was supposed to be Pete’s first kill,” Andy explained. “She rescued Joe the night we were captured. When they got Joe, they got her too. We had to leave her to get you and Pete out.”  
“He’s gone back for her,” Patrick nodded. “He blames himself?”  
“Worse, he likes her. Trick, I have to go, he can’t face them alone, not at night, he’ll get himself killed.”  
“Take me with you, I can help. I’m stronger now. Not like Pete, but I’m stronger than you and Joe put together.”  
“Yeah, I think that’s what we’re afraid of,” Andy replied with surprising honesty.  
“Let me help or kill me now!” Patrick demanded. “You’ll both get caught and I’ll lie here starving for eternity. If you’re going to walk out that door at least stake me first! Please Andy, don’t do this to me!”

Andy stared, rooted to the spot. He had only seconds to make the decision. He needed to go after Joe, but Patrick’s life or death ultimatum shocked him to the core. 

“I gotta go,” Andy replied hesitantly. “I can’t make this decision.”  
“You have to!” Patrick snapped back. “There is only you! There’s a stake in my top draw or a key in your pocket.”

Andy nodded slowly as he stepped closer, dreading what he had to do.

*

Beckett watched with a smile spreading across his face. Pete was getting the upper hand, and he knew that with the girl’s blood his strength would quadruple. They would have no trouble overpowering and slaughtering the other coven leaders. 

“Blood,” Beckett mused. “I’d almost forgotten.”

Pete spun around landing a kick to Spencer’s head sending him spinning to the floor. Jumping to avoid Spencer’s attempt to tangle his feet in Pete’s legs to bring him down, Pete landed softly at shoulder level with Spencer and landed a punch that left the older vampire dazed and bleeding.

As the door opened, Pete spun around, half expecting his friends come to rescue him, and was surprised to see Ryan and Andrea in the doorway. Andrea cried out in shock at the sight of Beckett feeding from the young boy. Pete’s eyes widened at the sight; he had wanted so much to keep Beckett from killing the boy, but his fight with Spencer had been harder than he had expected. In a fit of rage and exasperation, Pete turned and kicked Spencer viciously in the head, knocking him out cold.

“Master!” Ryan called, racing to Spencer’s side.

Beckett’s jaw fell in utter astonishment at the young vampire’s reaction.

“You dare to call him Master!”  
“Y… yes, Master William, isn’t that right?” Ryan sounded confused. “He… he turned me. He said he was my master.”  
“Did he now?” Beckett seethed, finally seeing Spencer for the treacherous and dangerous vampire he was. “And you accepted this?”  
“But he serves you, Master William.”  
“No Ryan, from this moment on, Spencer is dead. Who do you serve now?”  
“I… I…” Ryan paused, his whole basis of loyalty crumbling around him as he grew more confused. “I serve you, Master William.”  
“Damn right you do!” Beckett bellowed in his fury.

Concentrating hard, Beckett sent a bolt of energy that hit Ryan in a brilliant flash of blue-white light. Blinded and disorientated, the young vampire was lifted off his feet and slammed viciously into the wall behind him. Beckett watched with satisfaction as Ryan crumpled instantly to the floor.

“And you!” he snarled looking down at Spencer, slowly waking at his feet. “You will stay exactly where you are until I have time to deal with you.” 

Crackling strands of energy wound their way around Spencer’s pain-racked body, holding him firm.

“You tried to destroy Brendon for his place, but then you got greedy, Spencer. How long have you been plotting against me, I wonder?” Beckett shook his head. “A special punishment for you, mark my words!”

Beckett took a deep breath before turning.

“Now, Peter…” 

Glancing quickly around the room, Beckett soon realised that both Pete and Andrea had disappeared. Letting out a low guttural scream of frustration and annoyance, Beckett sent out a telepathic call to all vampires of his coven. Peter and Andrea must not be allowed to escape under any circumstances – be that dead or alive.


	11. Joe and Andrea Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Pete escape? Joe and Andrea kiss! How is Andy?

Patrick stared up unblinking as Andy stepped closer. He had quite literally given him the ultimatum of his life and he held his breath as his friend gazed down at him, an expression of anguish fixed his face. Only minutes earlier, Patrick had heard his friend say that no vampires could be trusted. Had he meant it? He had been talking about Pete after the revelation of his return to Beckett’s mansion, but even so, it had been a shock. Had Andy always felt like that? Thinking back, Patrick remembered that out of all of them, Andy had been the last one to come around to Pete’s return. Perhaps he’d never really trusted him? Did he believe him now when he said that Pete had come to his senses and was trying to escape? Did it matter? Was he going to die for the second time?

Andy took a deep breath and reached for the draw in the small cabinet next to the bed, his fingers closing on the stake. Patrick nodded, knowing now what his decision was.

“I’m sorry, Andy,” Patrick sighed.

Andy turned a deep frown towards him as he withdrew the stake and held it with a trembling hand.

“You’re sorry?” he asked confused.  
“Yeah,” Patrick nodded.

Sitting up with astonishing speed, Patrick grabbed a handful of Andy’s hair and pulled him down until his forehead collided sharply with the cabinet. Quickly releasing his hair and snatching at his arm before he had time to fall, Patrick dragged Andy’s limp form across him, smiling with relief as he heard the stake clatter to the floor. Reaching into Andy’s pocket, Patrick withdrew the key to the locks on the chains holding him down. Freeing himself easily within only a couple of minutes, Patrick got to his feet, pushed the chains aside and rolled Andy’s unconscious form on the bed.

“You didn’t really think I was going to just let you kill me, did you?” he spoke quietly as he drank the contents of the glass that Andy had brought back with him. Almost as an afterthought, he wrapped one of the chains around Andy’s left wrist and locked it firmly.

“And it may surprise you to learn that I don’t trust you either!”

*

Pete pushed Andrea behind him as he pressed himself back up against the wall as ahead of them three vampires stalked the halls. Pete knew without question that the word was out. If nothing else, he had to get Andrea out of there; she was innocent in all of this and was dangerously close to being killed, or worse. Turning to look at her when they had safely passed, he smiled as he could see only concentration and determination in her eyes; she had no fear, certainly none showing anyway.

“You okay?” he whispered.  
“How do I keep him out?” she asked in reply.  
“What?”  
“William, he got into my head, made me turn on Joe,” she admitted with a frown. “What if he tries it again? How do I keep him out?”

Pete frowned. He couldn’t say for sure, but he had an idea, something that might work.

“Let me in,” he suggested.  
“You can do it too?” she asked with surprise.  
“Apparently, yes, but I don’t really know how. I can try, but…”  
“Try!” Andrea replied urgently.

Concentrating hard, Pete reached out with his mind and was immediately surprised to feel her presence in a different way. He could hear her thoughts, her fears and felt her feelings.

“He’s okay, Joe’s okay,” Pete answered her silent question. It was a few moments before he realised that he hadn’t actually spoken the words.  
“He really left me here? William wasn’t lying?”  
“I don’t think he had much choice,” Pete tried to reassure her. “I’m pretty sure it was my fault.”

Trying now to turn his attention to escaping, Pete found it hard to concentrate on what to do next and to keep a foothold in Andrea’s mind. It felt to him as though he were being pulled in two different directions at once. It struck him that this particular power was a learned one and not like some of the others that simply came with the package. But Pete didn’t have time to learn it. He had two simple choices: stay linked to Andrea and possibly be distracted as they tried to escape, or to use all of his skill and guile to get them out of there as fast as he could. One thing helped him make up his mind.

“Andrea,” Pete whispered. “I’m no good at this, and if I stay in your mind, it’ll slow us down. Besides, if he turns up, I don’t have the strength to fight him anyway. Most of all, I don’t know what affect us fighting for dominance over your mind would have on you.”  
Andrea nodded and smiled faintly. “It was worth a try.”

Creeping forward to the end of the corridor, Pete signalled that all was clear, silently grateful that the house was so large that it was possible to sneak around in it without being seen.

“I’ve been out the rear doors, I know how to get there,” Andrea interrupted Pete’s thoughts.

He chose not to tell her that he had lived there for nearly three months. He knew exactly where the doors were and with it, exactly where Beckett’s vampires would be waiting for them.

“We’re not going out the doors, we’re leaving through Beckett’s office window,” Pete replied with a dark scowl. “They’ll be waiting for us at the doors.”  
“That makes sense,” Andrea nodded her agreement.  
“Have you been to his office?” Pete asked.  
“I… uh… I think so, but I don’t remember the way.” Andrea frowned worried that she wasn’t being helpful.

Pete hid his relieved smile from her. He was heading for the main door. Taking a chance that Beckett would try to read her mind rather than control it, which Pete may detect, he had planted a thought that he knew Beckett would pick up on easily. He prayed that Beckett would run true to form and be his usual controlling, devious and sneaky self.

Heading towards the front of the house, Pete pushed open a door and quickly ushered Andrea inside. Within moments of the door being closed over, almost shut, Andrea heard the familiar click of the vampires’ smart leather-heeled shoes on the wooden floor.

“How did you know?” she whispered.

Pete hung his head, shaking it in dismay. Glancing up he could see one of the vampires had turned; a look of superiority on his face as he noticed the door was slightly ajar.  
Dressed immaculately in a dark blue suit with a grey silk cravat, Mike Carden would have been the very picture of elegance but for the shaggy mop of dark brown hair skimming his shirt’s collar.

“Because, my dear,” he addressed the almost closed door, “vampires have incredible hearing.”

Pushing the door open, Pete lunged forward, tackling Mike and slamming him into the wall behind him. Swinging his elbow back as another approached from behind, Pete caught him in the chest, cracking a couple of ribs with a sickening crunch. Two more vampires bore down on him and with a grunt of exertion swung Mike into them, watching with satisfaction as they toppled like bowling pins.

“Come on!” Pete called, grabbing Andrea’s arm and racing down the corridor only moments ahead of the vampires. But Pete knew it was useless to run, he could only run as fast as she could. Without her holding him back, he stood a chance of escape. There was only one option open to him.

Andrea let out a small squeal of surprise as Pete turned quickly and scooped her up, throwing her over his shoulder. Holding on to his back, the corridors were merely a blur as he raced at top speed through the long halls, finally bursting through into the entrance hall. From two more corridors, yet more vampires arrived forming a threatening arc and in the centre, William Beckett.

“You thought you could escape from me again, Peter?”

Lowering Andrea back onto her feet and manoeuvring her protectively behind him, Pete’s eyes darted from left to right as he saw the semi-circle of vampires slowly close around them. He counted them all. Yes, they were all here, all of them.

“Open the door,” he whispered to her.

“You can’t fight us all, Peter, you know, just like last time, we will overpower you. But this time, we won’t try to keep the fight going by taking you on one at a time. Perhaps I’ll take you myself,” Beckett chuckled as he confessed to Pete that, during the street fight, they had merely been keeping him occupied while his friends were captured.

“Let her go, William,” Pete demanded his voice slightly strained. “Let her go and I won’t fight you.”  
“Oh, now, you expect me to believe that?” Beckett mocked. “But no matter, whether you fight me or not, I’ll still have you and this time, I know exactly what to do with you. I know now that you’ll never join me, and neither human blood, nor mine is going to change that, maybe it never would have? I don’t know how you escaped my control, but you will not escape my wrath! I’m going after everyone you’ve ever cared about, starting with her!”

Pushing Andrea further behind him, Pete backed up slowly, finally standing within reach of the door.

“I’m going to turn every one and then make them feed off you, a little every day. Every one of them calling me Master and killing you little by little, torturing you, making you scream for mercy! Mercy that you won’t get!”  
“Go!” Pete ordered as he pulled open the door and shoved Andrea outside, almost colliding with Joe as she stumbled through the open door. “Go!” Pete screamed again, slamming the door shut behind her.

Outside, Joe snatched up Andrea’s wrist and started to pull her down the long shingle path down to the main gates. He had wondered how he had found it so easy to approach the house and now his question was answered – Pete had them all very much occupied.

“No!” Andrea cried. “Joe, we can’t leave him!”  
“I’m getting you out of here,” Joe insisted, not pausing as he ran, dragging the reluctant Andrea behind him.  
“Joe, please!”  
“Pete can take care of himself.”  
“No! He…”

Joe took a brief pause, turning to her breathless, his eyes wide.

“I’m not leaving you there a minute longer. It was hard enough having to the first time! Now come on!”

Joe resumed his race to the car, surprised but grateful that no one was following. He didn’t even notice Patrick hiding in the trees and bushes lining the outer wall. Patrick barely noticed Joe; he had his eyes fixed on the mansion. Inside he knew he would find Pete and Beckett. As vampires they were poles apart and each would try to destroy the other. It was time to join the fight.

*

Pete took fast shallow breaths as William Beckett smirked at him. With each breath, it seemed as if the arc of vampires that made up Beckett’s coven closed in on him by one more step. Surrounded, it seemed to Pete that he would be unlikely to escape and the absolute certainty of that fact on Beckett’s face only seemed to confirm his fears all the more. The line of Beckett’s vampires closed on one side forcing Pete to his right. Backing up, much to Beckett’s amusement, Pete found himself pressed up against the wall with no escape route.

“Are you ready to give yourself up, Peter?” Beckett asked smoothly. “If you do, I promise…”  
“Whatever you’re about to say, save it, Beckett! You know, as well as I do, that you’re lying!” Pete snapped angrily.

Beckett frowned irritably at the accusation. “Michael, fetch some chains, the strongest we have; I want him locked up nice and tight. And gentlemen…” Beckett addressed the remaining vampires. Sweeping his arms from the side, palms up, he drew them close to point in Pete’s direction. “He’s all yours!”

Rushed at once by all twelve vampires, Pete was swamped. Blow after blow rained down on him, all attempts to stave off the attack were blocked and countered. Dragged from his position against the wall to the middle of the entrance hall, Pete was helpless against them; twenty-four fists and feet battling against his two. Landing a few well-timed punches, Pete was able to fend off two of his attackers, but the sheer volume of blows he received was winning out and Pete soon found himself beaten to his knees. Aching, bruised and bleeding from the vicious attack, and now held securely, his arms twisted high up his back and his legs pinned to the floor, Pete had little choice but to give up.

His shoulders sagged with helpless frustration as he heard Beckett laughing at him. He knew trying to escape like that would be a risk, but at least the others were safe, as was Andrea. He had achieved his main task. Hearing the clink of chains being brought into the hall, he knew this was the start of his torture and eventual slow death. He knew Beckett planned to re-capture his friends and turn them to make him suffer, but it did reassure him about one thing, at least, Beckett was unaware that he had already turned Patrick. Patrick? Of course!

Heavy manacles were secured around his wrists and ankles, other chains linking the two sets of manacles and another fastened tightly around his upper arms. Pete was barely able to move.

“Take him to the dungeon and bring me the keys.”

*

“Joe, will you please stop the car!” Andrea begged.  
“Not until we get home, and you’re safe,” Joe replied, his knuckles white from the tight grip he had maintained on the wheel and his eyes fixed, wide, unblinking on the road ahead.  
“How am I more safe there than anywhere else?” Andrea asked frustrated by Joe ignoring her pleas.  
“It’s where we live, vampires can’t enter a human dwelling without an invitation, which they won’t get.”  
“Except Pete,” she corrected.  
“Yeah,” Joe sighed. “And Patrick.”  
“Patrick’s not a vampire,” Andrea turned a confused expression to Joe. “Is he? You said he made the shakes for Pete, you didn’t say…”  
“It just happened,” Joe interrupted.  
“Just?” Andrea raised an eyebrow. “The night he was captured?”  
Joe cleared his throat, feeling awkward questions coming on. “Yeah, pretty much.”  
“What aren’t you telling me, Joe?” Andrea pushed sensing his discomfort.  
“Look, I’ve answered all your questions, how can you accuse me of keeping something from you?”  
“It’s the questions I haven’t asked though, isn’t it?”  
“Oh, that’s not fair!” Joe played for time. “You’re accusing me of keeping things from you on the basis that I’m not answering stuff you haven’t asked?”  
“Who turned him?”

Joe’s shoulders sagged as she asked the question he dreaded, but even so, he intended to skim over the facts.

“Patrick was drained at Beckett’s. When we escaped, he was going to die, so Pete turned him. He had to.”  
“I’m sorry,” Andrea reacted to the slight catch she heard in Joe’s throat as he spoke.  
“One more thing,” she pushed, unsure why, but she felt a connection between two vital pieces of information she had been told. “Pete said it was his fault you had to leave me there. What did he mean?”

With a heavy sigh, Joe finally brought the car to a halt.

“You have no idea how hard that was for me, leaving you there like that.”  
“Yes I do!” Andrea snapped back. “I begged you half the way here to go back to help Pete and you wouldn’t.”

_Joe turned distressed eyes towards Andrea; did she have feelings for Pete? He hadn’t told her how he felt, but he hoped that there was some spark between them. Of course not. Why would there be? Pete was handsome and had saved her life, twice. He also had the sexy vampire thing going on. What did he, Joe, have to offer her?_

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I just wanted to get you away from there, I wanted you to be safe from them.”  
“Is… is that all?” she asked with a frown. His first statement had been one of personal unhappiness, while his second seemed almost clinical.  
Joe sighed, looking back down at the steering wheel. “All? Isn’t that enough?”  
“I… I guess so.”  
“I better get you back to the warehouse,” Joe muttered as he pulled out into traffic once more.  
“Joe?” Andrea began tentatively.  
“What?” he replied miserably, as he thought about how his world had suddenly crumbled around him.  
“You seem unhappy… suddenly. Was it something I said?”

_Yes! Yes it was! You love Pete! And he doesn’t deserve you! No, that’s unfair, he does, but so do I! Don’t I? How can you not see how I feel about you? Or maybe you do and Pete’s just an excuse so I won’t say anything to you? I’m just kidding myself to think that you could like me._

“No, no, nothing’s wrong. You’re right, once you’re safe, I’ll go back and get Pete.”  
“You’re not going on your own!” Andrea insisted.  
“You’re not going!” Joe turned a worried glance to her. “You’re never going near that place again!”  
“Don’t tell me what to do, Joe Trohman! If you’re going back there, then so am I!”

Joe slammed on the brakes suddenly, bringing the car to a violent halt throwing the pair forward a few inches in their seats.

“Look, I don’t care how you feel about Pete, but I can’t let you risk your life over him, I… I… care about you too much. And I know you love Pete, but… I can’t help it… I…”

Turning in her seat, Andrea placed a hand on Joe’s left cheek, gasping as she felt it was damp. Gently turning his head to face her, Andrea smiled at his pained expression.

“I don’t love Pete,” she explained before leaning closer.

It took a moment for her words and actions to register, but finally, Joe’s eyes lit up with unbridled happiness.

“You mean…?”

Sliding her hand behind his neck, Andrea pulled Joe towards her into a tender kiss. Now reaching up, Joe slid one arm around her waist and caressed her cheek with the other. Sinking deeper into the kiss, it would have been easy for the pair to be lost in the moment, but they both knew there was still so much to do. Only a few minutes from the warehouse, they were unaware that there was more wrong than they could possibly have realised.

Pulling back slowly out of the kiss, Andrea smiled broadly at Joe.

“You’re good,” she said brushing his cheek lightly with her fingertips. “But,” she continued with a regretful frown, “we have things to do.”  
“I’ll get you to the warehouse,” Joe nodded with a wide grin.

*

Patrick was getting better at deciphering Pete’s messages, but he wished, above all, that he would slow down when sending them. They didn’t hurt any more, but they still came through in a garbled rush of noise. Although, Patrick reflected, the situation Pete was in, if he had spoken the message, it would probably have sounded much the same. They key words that kept flooding his mind over and over weren’t Pete’s location in the dungeon, or even the fact that he was held in chains, but the simple phrase – ‘Patrick! Help me!’. Pete was afraid. Part of what Patrick sensed was Pete’s fear for the malevolence that Beckett held for his friends. Yes, they had escaped this time, but he wasn’t going to let them win so easily. Pete would be made to suffer via the capture, torture and turning of his friends. Another pleading message came through explaining that Beckett himself was on his way to torture him.

“Oh, I’m on my way, but someone’s in for a very big surprise,” he chuckled to himself.

*

Andy opened his eyes slowly. A combination of the searing pain in his head and the bright lights of the bedroom conspired against him; he felt nauseous. Bile rose in his throat and there was no doubt in his mind that he would have to reach a bathroom quickly. Rolling off the bed, Andy staggered, almost falling to his knees as his right hand went to his throbbing forehead. One more step caused the chain around his left wrist to start pulling him back. Turning confused, bleary eyes, Andy realised he was chained to the bed. Fumbling in his pocket revealed only that he didn’t have the key. His eyes were misting with the pain in his head, the room was spinning, swirling in and out of focus. Collapsing to his knees, he had no choice but to empty the contents of his stomach where he fell. Coughing and retching, Andy’s eyes watered at the pain of the action. All he could think of was how all those pained muscles were never designed to work in reverse. Finally pushing himself backwards away from the foul acrid smell, Andy clawed his way back to the bed wishing he could will away the pounding behind his eyes.

“Andy?”

Andy, still slumped on the floor but leaning against the bed, heard Joe’s call, but found himself still too disorientated and weak to respond. Pulling half-heartedly on the chains, he sighed his frustration as it was all he could manage.

“Andy?” Joe called again.

Pushing the door to Patrick’s room open, Joe ran forward as he saw his friend, slumped over, leaning awkwardly against the bed. Rushing to his side, Joe lifted Andy’s head gently noticing that his eyes were unfocussed.

“How did this happen? Who did this to you?” he asked noticing that Andy’s wrist was chained to the bed.

Having left as soon as Joe ran into the room, Andrea returned with a glass of water and passed it to Joe.

“Here,” Joe encouraged him to sip it as he held the glass to Andy’s lips. “Where’s Patrick?”  
“Escaped,” Andy explained. “He got a message from Pete asking for help. I was going to go after Pete, but Patrick wanted me to release him so he could come too. I didn’t know what to do. I got a stake out of the draw, you know, just in case I did need to defend myself and I was just about to free him when he attacked me.”  
“I’m gonna get your doctor friend, Simon, to look at you,” Joe nodded solemnly as he helped Andy back onto the bed. “I’m going back for Pete.”  
Andy sighed with relief at the comfort of the bed before replying. “No, Joe, you need to rest.”  
“I’m fine,” Joe insisted.  
“No, you’re not!” Andrea pressed a hand against his chest.  
“You want me to leave him there?” Joe asked incredulous.  
“No, but Andy needs you and… so do I. Please, Joe, at least get some rest.”

It was true, Joe was exhausted and Andy needed to be watched. Patrick had used unnecessary force on him. But could that have been because he wasn’t used to his own strength? Regardless of the reason, Andy was in need of a friend to look after him.

“I need to clean up in here. Where’s your stuff?” Andrea asked.

Joe smiled, grateful for her practical help and good sense. Placing a gentle kiss on her cheek, he smiled thankfully at her.

“I’ll show you.”


	12. Brendon returns to favour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Brendon, for all your good points: your loyalty, your sadistic mentality, cruelty and charm; your paranoia nearly destroyed you! If you learn anything from this, remember that you are my favourite, my Second."

In his office, William Beckett sat back in his chair, fingers interlaced as he held his hands close to his chest. It was hardly an opportunity to celebrate; he hadn’t achieved anything even close to what he wanted. Pete, although still his prisoner, was no longer under his control and could not be forced to help him destroy the other Coven Leaders. Added to that and the vampire hunters had escaped, as had the girl. It was beyond frustrating. He had planned everything so carefully and one by one his carefully laid and executed plans had been derailed by incompetence, treachery or sheer dumb luck in the hunters’ favour. Beneath his calm exterior, Beckett was seething. He had been humiliated and not just in front of his own Coven, but to the other coven leaders too. He had boasted of his triumph too early and now he had nothing. No… not quite nothing. He had Pete and he would pay dearly for what had happened. He would suffer, his friends would suffer and yes, he would have the girl too and he would turn her in front of her beloved Joe. The anger welled up from deep within him as he caught sight of Spencer, still lying immobile on the floor. The one who had caused the bulk of his plans to fail lay awaiting his final punishment, still held firmly by the strands of energy Beckett had formed around him prior to Pete’s escape attempt. Rising from his chair, Beckett strode purposely over to the helpless traitor.

“So, Spencer,” Beckett glowered at him, “I guess you’re mostly recovered from the fight with Pete now, aren’t you?”

Spencer could do nothing except stare up in fear of what Beckett had planned for him.

“That will seem like a picnic compared with what I’m going to do to you now,” he sneered. “And the best bit, is that while you’ll remain immobile, you will feel every agonising kick, blow and cut both physically and mentally. Actually, no, that’s not the best bit… the best bit is that this isn’t even your punishment! That’s still to come!”

Spencer’s eyes widened as he tried, without success, to call out in protest. Lifting him from the floor and holding him in mid-air with only the power of his mind, Beckett began a savage attack on his former Second.

“Master William,” Mike interrupted, contacting Beckett telepathically. “I have Pete fully secured in the dungeon. I’ll bring the keys to you now.”  
“No,” Beckett replied as he induced a feeling of intense heat over every inch of Spencer’s pain-racked body. “I’ll be there in ten minutes with another prisoner.”  
“Very well, Master, I’ll wait for you here.”

*

Mike stared down at Pete, a cruel sneer forming on his face. Still with his hands manacled behind him, Pete sat on the floor, a thick clasp fastened around his neck with its chain pulling him back hard against the wall. His knees bent for support, offered little comfort against the close fitting shackles around his ankles.

“You really thought you could escape?” Mike laughed at Pete’s defiant expression. Shaking his head, he continued. “No, there was never any chance of that?”  
“Really?” Pete growled. “You had no idea where we were or where we were headed.”  
“Ah, but your little friend’s mistake cost you dearly and now,” Mike grinned in return referring to Andrea speaking within earshot of him as they searched for the renegade pair. “Now, I’m in high favour with Master William.”  
“In favour?” Pete laughed. “You don’t seriously believe that Beckett will make you his Second do you?”  
“Why not?” Mike raised an eyebrow arrogantly. “Spencer’s crashed from a great height, and now, after capturing you, I’m the obvious choice. And in just under ten minutes, you’ll see for yourself!”  
“You’re deluding yourself.” Pete shook his head and chuckled to himself.

Mike’s eyes narrowed as Pete mocked him, his anger growing with each passing second. Finally stepping forward, the furious vampire swung a tightly clenched fist into Pete’s jaw. To Mike’s initial pleasure, Pete’s laughter stopped instantly and he moved in for another blow to the chained prisoner. With a satisfied gleam in his eyes, Pete’s head snapped up as he drew back his legs and ploughed them with all the force he could muster into Mike’s chest. Tumbling backwards, Mike cursed himself for falling for the trick, but as he hit the floor, he saw that there was more to Pete’s plan than he first realised.

Standing over him, looking down and smiling disdainfully, was Patrick. Mike laughed arrogantly, unimpressed by the confident expression on his face.

“Go on,” he sneered, while still lying on the floor, looking up, not even trying to hide his contempt. “Try your best and then I’ll kill you.”

Patrick’s grin broadened before dropping quickly to his knees at Mike’s side. Mike’s eyes widened as Patrick opened his mouth, his fangs extending as he did.

“What?! You… you’re…”

Cut off sharply as Patrick sunk his fangs deeply into Mike’s throat, slicing clean through his larynx, Mike was silenced. Screaming internally in silent agony and writhing helplessly beneath Patrick as he tore at his throat, Mike’s blood spilled over his chest and the floor. Finding it hard to concentrate, Mike tried desperately to put out a telepathic call to Beckett, only to find it blocked by Pete’s invasion of his mind. He wasn’t certain exactly how he had done it, but with Mike in his weakened state it hadn’t felt a difficult task to divert his intentions.

Finally pulling back as he felt the pinned vampire’s struggles weaken, Patrick wiped his chin and turned a satisfied smile towards Pete.

“Where are the keys?” he asked, licking his lips clean of the blood.  
“Inside pocket,” Pete replied with a wide grin. “Hurry, Beckett’ll be here any minute.”

Pushing Mike’s jacket open, it was a simple matter for Patrick to find the key to the locks on Pete’s chains and free him. Rubbing his wrists while Patrick freed his ankles, Pete couldn’t help but smile at how good a team they made. They had before, but now, even more so. Standing quickly once free, Pete gave Patrick a brief but sincere hug before the pair headed for the door.

Inside the main house, within sight of the rear doors, Pete paused. There was something about the stride of the approaching vampire that sounded all too familiar.

“Beckett!” he whispered.  
“Then let’s go,” Patrick encouraged with a smile.

Racing to freedom, the pair turned briefly as Beckett caught sight of them.

“How… NO!” Beckett fumed; mentally raising the alarm so loudly and openly that even Pete and Patrick heard.

Flashing a gloating smile in Beckett’s direction, Patrick pushed Pete towards the exit. If there was one thing they both knew, it was that Beckett himself would not make chase. Beckett’s eyes widened in surprise as he caught sight of Patrick’s fangs – now largely withdrawn, but still clearly visible.

“You… you can’t be,” Beckett sighed deeply and closed his eyes in frustration, as the door swung shut behind them. They had a massive head start against the members of his coven; they would escape for sure. Beckett had nothing. “Brendon!”

*

“Brendon?”

Brendon’s sticky eyes parted slowly with difficulty. He half lay, half sat, curled up and slumped against the wall in the farthest corner of the cell. His heavy lidded eyes could barely focus as he heard Beckett approach. The accompanying groans told him that Beckett was dragging someone with him. Brendon lowered his eyes again.

 _More torture?_ He thought to himself. _A human for the adjacent cell? Something to deepen his desperate bloodlust all the more?_

It wasn’t fair. He had been so scared that Beckett planned to replace or kill him over his stupid mistake with Pete that left him with his humanity intact but despite his fear, he had done everything asked of him. Yet here he was, alone, starving, weak and disgraced in his master’s eyes. Perhaps he deserved it for some of the other things he had done over the years? But not for this. It wasn’t fair, but he had no way to change what had happened or the judgement passed on him. Realistically, he couldn’t complain about fairness – vampires weren’t fair. The extremes of emotion that they could feel weren’t about fairness; they were about, self-preservation.

“M… Master,” Brendon struggled to greet Beckett.

It had been so long since Brendon had even tried to speak that the difficulty of it took him by surprise. His throat parched and sore and his dry, cracked lips made the movement of every syllable feel more like a razorblade in his mouth.

Placing both hands on the wall to act as support and balance, Brendon drew up his left leg and prepared to push himself upright. His brow creased in confusion, as after two attempts he hadn’t moved an inch. Finally realising that his failing coordination had resulted in his right leg being pinned by the left, he stared down, trying hard to figure out this one simple movement. To his dismay, it seemed an impossible puzzle and with every attempt to resolve the problem his anxiety deepened.

“Forgive me, Master,” Brendon pleaded as, much to his distress, yet another attempt to stand failed.

Beckett stared down at his former favourite, starved, weak and confused; in that single moment, much of his anger dissipated and an expression that bordered on pity formed on the coven leader’s eternally youthful and handsome face.

“Brendon,” he finally spoke as the younger vampire continued to exhaust himself trying to stand, “you’re too weak to rise. Stay where you are.”

Brendon nodded his relief. So distracted was he by the chance to rest once more that he didn’t even notice the cell door slide open and Beckett step inside.

“I have a number of things I want to say to you, Brendon, but first, I’ve brought you something to eat.”

Brendon’s eyes widened as he became fixated on the groaning body sliding towards him, viciously thrown within easy reach. Without looking, without caring, and in an act of pure instinct, Brendon fell on the newcomer, fangs already extending. Pushing his head aside, Brendon pinned him and leaning in, pierced the flesh and sank deep into the vein. Warm, thick blood filled his mouth as he drank eagerly, desperate to quench his thirst. Pressing harder on the vein, though more painful for the victim, allowed the blood to flow more freely and he took full advantage, pulling the rich nourishment into his mouth almost faster than he could swallow. The semi-conscious body writhed beneath him in at least partial awareness of the pain, but Brendon, now stronger, restrained him and forcefully held him in one position.

Beckett watched with a satisfied smile as Brendon drained the easy prey. He had almost had his fill before Brendon realised that it wasn’t human blood that he was drinking. Pulling away, he tilted the head of his victim and stared into the deathly pale face.

“Spencer?”

Brendon didn’t expect a reply. Spencer was practically dead. It was one thing to starve a vampire, another to drain him sufficiently to deepen his hunger, as he had done with Pete, but this was quite different. Spencer had now been drained of virtually every drop and unless fed directly by another vampire’s blood, he would not recover. Too weak to even move, Spencer was condemned to lie in that one position and continue to starve until fed or killed. It was a cruel fate for an immortal being, possibly the cruellest. His only consolation lay in the possibility that he would eventually, over time, slip into insanity and find some release from his own mind and the torture imposed on him.

Still on his knees, Brendon looked up at Beckett. Uncertainty filled his mind once more. That Spencer had been handed a crueller punishment than he had by no means meant that he was once again in favour.

“Master?” Brendon spoke with a shaky voice as he rose to his feet, lowering his head in deference.  
“Brendon, you have,” Beckett paused to sigh deeply, “many faults, but disloyalty isn’t one of them.”  
“Master, please believe me! I carried out all the tasks you gave me, every one.”  
“I know!” Beckett raised his hands in a calming gesture. “I know that now and I’m sorry I doubted you. I still don’t know how he did it, but trying to trick me is a fatal error.”

Brendon glanced down at Spencer’s body. He could feel no sympathy, Spencer had tried to destroy him and disgrace him in Beckett’s eyes. The only thing he did feel was gratitude that it was a punishment that Beckett had not handed out to him. What he had suffered was already bad enough. But now, even as he thought more about it, his old worries and paranoia crept up to him and whispered in his ear that he was still not safe.

“Master, if you don’t know how he did it, how did you discover he’d lied to you?” he asked surprisingly boldly.  
“Quite by accident,” Beckett frowned. “The hunters’ leader, Patrick, he’s now a vampire.”  
“A vampire! Wentz turned him?”  
Beckett nodded in reply. “And to do that, he must have drained him first.”  
“He did, I was watching when… oh! That’s how you know?”  
Beckett nodded in reply. “Suddenly, Spencer’s story about you freeing the prisoners made no sense against that one solitary fact. I guess he was hoping that they would escape before Wentz had the chance to drain him. But more than that, I discovered that Spencer had been plotting against me too and that is punishable only by death.”  
“Plotting against you?” Brendon’s eyes widened. “I knew he was disloyal, but…”  
“Sshh, Brendon! I’m not accusing you of anything. You were loyal to me and I punished you severely for it. I’m sorry.”  
“Thank you, Master,” Brendon replied, relief spreading quickly across his face as he learned that he was no longer being blamed.  
“William, Brendon. If you wish to rejoin me at my side, you must call me William.”

Brendon lowered his head with a heavy sigh, almost unable to accept that William was accepting him back as his second so freely. It was true that it had not been Brendon’s fault, but Beckett was proud and his personal sacrifice to admit that he had made a mistake stunned Brendon into a few moments silence.

“Thank you, William,” he finally managed.  
“But, Brendon, for all your good points: your loyalty, your sadistic mentality, cruelty and charm; your paranoia nearly destroyed you! If you learn anything from this, remember that you are my favourite, my Second. If you displease me, I will punish you, but if there is no punishment, then there has been no crime! Don’t let your paranoia cause so much trouble again!”  
“I… I understand, William. It won’t happen again.”  
Beckett smiled, almost laughed. “Yes it will, Brendon, you know it will. Just… try to keep it under control.”

Brendon nodded at Beckett’s understanding. As much as he wanted to explain to Beckett that if he had told him the truth in the first place, he would probably not have been so paranoid. But Beckett had been forgiving enough for one day. Pushing for more would be risky.

“Now, come; we have a great deal to do. The hunters are still free and now two of them are vampires.”  
“Do you still only want Wentz or do you want both?” Brendon asked as he followed Beckett out of the dungeon, casually stepping over Spencer, lying as good as dead on the floor of the cell.  
William mulled the question over in his mind for a few minutes as they climbed the stairs.

“Yes,” he turned to Brendon with a cruel smirk spreading across his face. “I believe I do want both of them. Setting them against each other could provide us with some much needed entertainment.”

Brendon’s mouth widened into a grin at Beckett’s words; he was back in his rightful place and a plan was already hatching in Beckett’s mind.

 

*

Simon straightened up and sighed as he removed the stethoscope from his ears. Turning a tired smile to Joe and Andrea, he nodded reassuringly.

“How is he?” Joe asked stepping forward, Simon’s reassuring nod, not quite reassuring enough; Joe wanted actual words.  
“He’s mildly concussed, but he’ll be okay in a day or two. Thanks,” he replied taking the mug of coffee offered by Andrea. “It’s likely that his memory may be a little sketchy but that’s normal for concussion.”  
“You mean he won’t remember falling?” Joe asked.  
Simon smiled and shook his head. “I think we both know he didn’t fall, Joe.”

Joe stared, wide-eyed. Did he really know that or was he just guessing?

“He has no bruises anywhere on his body, but a massive lump on his forehead and a matching dent in the bedside cabinet. Now tell me what’s going on around here. First Patrick and now Andy? What’s going on? And I mean really, not the fairy tales you’re feeding me.”

Joe took a deep breath; Simon was not easily fooled. Casting a quick glance to the bedside cabinet, Joe checked to see if there really was a dent – there wasn’t.

“I was kidding, Joe, now what’s going on?” Simon pressed.  
“You know we fight vampires?”  
“Yeah, I know. I’d probably get struck off the medical register if I admitted that in public, but yeah, I know.”  
“What? Simon, this town is overrun with vampires. You’d have to be blind not to notice,” Joe corrected.  
“Welcome to the world of the Medical Council,” Simon grinned then continued as if reading from a medical journal. “It is medically impossible for a person to exist without a heartbeat, therefore it is inconceivable that vampires exist.”  
“They exist enough to kill!” Joe snapped angrily in reply.  
“I’m not the one you have to convince, Joe,” Simon replied with a shrug of his shoulders as he reached into his bag for a syringe.  
“What are you giving him?” Andrea asked, as she watched him measure out a dose of a clear liquid.  
“Just something to help him relax and get some sleep, that’s all,” Simon replied as he pierced the skin on Andy’s left arm.  
“He was attacked by a vampire,” Joe explained.  
“Really?” Simon carefully disposed of the syringe in a portable sharps box. “Unconventional sort of attack for a vampire, isn’t it?”  
“Well, he…” Joe began.  
“Where’s Patrick?” Simon asked pointedly.  
“Wh… what?” Joe stammered.  
“It’s a simple enough question,” Simon smiled as he closed his bag. “Where’s Patrick? Last time I was here, he was dying. You haven’t said anything about him. So where is he now?”  
“Well, what if he had died? That’s pretty insensitive of you!”  
“But he didn’t, did he?” Simon cocked his head to one side. “Your boy, Pete, turned him didn’t he? And by the looks of this, he didn’t turn out quite so much on the good side as he did.”  
“I don’t know how good Pete is,” Joe sighed with a resigned shrug; it felt to him as though he wasn’t sure of anything any more.  
Simon gave a derisory snort. “Well, it’s true enough, Pete can be a real surly bastard sometimes, but at least he fights with you, not against you.” Picking up on Joe’s hesitation, Simon continued. “Or does he?”  
“It’s been difficult lately,” Joe sighed flopping down into a chair. “We were captured during a hunt. It was a trap and we just didn’t see it coming.”  
“But you got away? All of you, yeah?”

Simon’s voice lost all hint of amusement; listening intently as Joe explained everything that had happened to them since that fateful night.

“So, now Pete’s still at Beckett’s and Patrick?” he clarified.  
“We’ve no idea where he is,” Joe admitted.  
“But he’s evil?” Simon asked.  
“Isn’t it possible that he’s just not used to his own strength yet?” Joe asked the question he himself had considered on finding Andy.  
“Anything’s possible, Joe. The hard part is knowing when you’re really hearing the truth and not just wishing it were true.”

*

“You go,” Patrick gasped, his eyes struggling to stay open. “I won’t make it.”  
“You will!” Pete assured him. “I’ll carry you if I have to, but we are going to make it!”

Pete cursed inwardly as the approaching dawn wore Patrick down. He remembered how it was for him when he was first turned; he had slept a lot. It had taken him several weeks before he could stay awake until dawn; he had found the changes in his body new, a little scary and frequently exhausting. Pete knew it would be the same for Patrick. He wasn’t even certain if Patrick had managed to eat anything.

“Not far now,” he encouraged, catching Patrick as he tripped over his leaden feet once more. In return, Patrick offered little more than an exhausted grunt.

They were so close now, but the sky was lightening with every step and Pete knew that they were cutting it desperately fine. Pete had considered hiding somewhere until the next night. In any other situation, he would have given it serious thought, but he just wanted to get home. In the last couple of days, he had been starved, drained, been tied up, locked up, chained, tasered or been under some sort of hypnotic trance and he desperately needed something familiar. He needed above all else to be in the comfort and safety of home.

Finally, after what felt like an age, Pete gave a sigh of relief as the warehouse loomed into view. The sky was now a worryingly light shade of blue with rivers of gold and red beginning to stream across the horizon. Hammering on the locked door, Pete yelled for attention as the twilight began to give way to the rising sun and the first of the birds began their songs.

“Joe!” he yelled in a controlled panic as he too began to feel sleepy. “Andy! Let us in! Why is the door locked? Let us in!”

Turning his back on the door, Pete looked around, there was nowhere to hide, nowhere to go. It was too late to go anywhere else, if they weren’t allowed in soon, they would both be dead. Turning back, Pete raised his arm once more. As he did, the door opened suddenly to reveal Joe glaring sternly.

“At last!” Pete cried as he felt a wave of exhaustion hit him; he knew that he couldn’t stay awake much longer himself. At his feet, Patrick had already crumpled into a deep sleep. “The door was locked! Help me with Patrick.”

Leaning down, Pete took one of Patrick’s arms over his shoulder and lifted him awkwardly. Glancing up, Pete was surprised to see that Joe was unmoved and still standing in the doorway.

“It’s nearly dawn!” Pete cried in frustration, as still Joe made no attempt to help him. Stepping forward, Pete was surprised as Joe took a small step back as though to let him in and yet, he found his entry somehow blocked. Trying again, Pete’s brow furrowed as some invisible force kept him from entering.

“What’s going on? How did you…?”  
“You need to be invited in,” Joe explained. “You know that.”  
“I don’t need to be invited every time! I live here!”  
“Not any more, I had the doorway blessed again,” Joe shook his head. “You betrayed us and went back to Beckett.”  
“B… but… you know that wasn’t my fault!” Pete stammered, surprised by Joe’s reaction.  
“You nearly killed Andy,” he frowned deeply.  
“Come on, man! You know that wasn’t me! It was the blood. I tried to get him to chain me up, but it all happened too quickly. I rescued your girl, doesn’t that count for anything?”  
“And him?” Joe nodded in Patrick’s direction. “You’re with him even though he attacked Andy too?”  
“He…? What…?” Pete looked down at Patrick, sleeping peacefully at his feet. “I don’t know about that, but… no, I don’t know. What I do know is that if you don’t let us in, we’ll die out here.”  
“Joe,” Andrea spoke calmly behind him. “Let them in. It’s dawn; they can’t do any harm now.”  
Joe frowned deeply as he glanced over his shoulder at Andrea, before turning a harsh glare back at Pete. “Is this your doing? Are you messing with her mind?”  
“No, but I’m thinking someone’s messed with yours!” Pete snapped, his eyes closing as the last of the stars faded from view. Dropping to his knees, Pete’s next words were slurred. “Do whatever you have to, just don’t kill us. Hear us out. Please!”

As he slumped forward and fell into a deep sleep, Pete was oblivious to Joe hauling him through the open doorway. Stooping, Joe pulled Patrick inside, away from the encroaching dawn and certain death.

“I hope you’re right about this,” Joe sighed as he stared at the two vampires lying unconscious at his feet.

Andrea ran her fingers quickly yet soothingly through his dark curls.

“William was going to kill me for sure, but Pete rescued me. He could have left me and saved himself, but he didn’t he saved me and sacrificed his own freedom in the process. I think he deserves a proper hearing, if nothing else.”  
“And Patrick?” Joe raised an eyebrow. “He nearly killed Andy.”  
“I don’t think it was intentional,” Andrea shrugged. “From what you said, he was turned only hours before. You said it yourself, I doubt he knows his own strength yet.”

Joe nodded his agreement, as he recalled an argument with Pete shortly after his turning. Although he neither could remember precisely how the argument had happened, nor what it was about, he did remember that Pete had landed such a heavy blow to his stomach that he struggled to walk for a day or two later. The incident had extended Pete’s captive status for at least a week, but it proved to be exactly as Andrea had said – a new vampire with no concept of his own strength.

“Well, let’s hope, eh?”

*

“What shall I do with him?” Beckett sighed miserably as he stood over the still unconscious, but healing body of Mike.

Brendon pouted. His instinct told him to suggest that Beckett kill him, but he felt that some sort of gesture was required. A way to demonstrate the trust he had in his master, or at least as much as he could fabricate. His own self-preservation told him to rid himself of rivals, but his attempts to overrule his own paranoid nature led him to think that he should encourage Beckett to strengthen them.

“You’ve lost a senior, perhaps you should make up for this by increasing the strength of your remaining seniors?”  
“You would be happy for me to make another vampire, a rival to your position, stronger?” Beckett’s eyes widened at the thought.  
“William, you know me well,” he nodded. “Well enough to know that I fear rivals, but not so well that you don’t realise that I will do anything to achieve your goals. If strengthening my rivals is what it takes to defeat the hunters, then that’s what I’ll support.”  
Beckett’s lips turned up in a satisfied smile. “Don’t worry, Brendon, your position will not be usurped again. I have a plan, but I will need your help.”


	13. Pete and Patrick - the verdict

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe and Andy consider whether they can trust Pete and Patrick

Joe gazed down at the two vampires at his feet. Even as he thought about them, he wouldn’t allow himself to even think the word ‘friends’; he had to stay objective, he had to stay distant; he had to convince himself that he was doing the right thing.

“Am I?” he asked.  
“Are you, what?” Andrea asked, not privy to his thoughts.  
“Am I doing the right thing?” he sighed tiredly.  
“I don’t know if it’ll turn out the way you want it, but, yeah, I think you’re doing the right thing right now,” she replied slipping a comforting arm around his waist.  
“You know we’ve got to lock them up, don’t you?”  
“Yeah, but they’ll understand, you know.”  
“I’m being careful,” Joe insisted, even though no one was questioning him. “I’m doing what Patrick would do in the same situation. He’s always telling me I follow my heart instead of my head… I can’t do that now. There’s too much at stake.”

Andrea smiled as the statement was almost posed as a question. She could tell that Joe was very uncomfortable with what he had done, what he had to do. They were his friends and it was killing him to doubt them.

“He’ll be proud of you, Joe,” she reassured him. “Now, I’ll get Simon, I don’t think he’ll mind helping to get them secured. The questions he’s asked, I don’t think he’s in any hurry to go anywhere until he’s got his answers.”

Joe nodded; Andrea was talking a lot of sense. She seemed to understand everything about him and right now, more than ever, he needed that reassurance.

*

William Beckett drummed his fingers on his desk as Brendon stood silently, leaning against the wall to his left, his right foot crossed casually over his left and his arms folded across his chest.

“Tell me, Brendon,” Beckett finally leaned back in his chair after some minutes. “What would you do in my position?”

After a few moments’ hesitation from his second in command, Beckett looked up.

“It’s not a trick question, Brendon. Answer me,”

Pushing himself away from the wall and relaxing his arms, Brendon approached the desk.

“I say we go to their headquarters and smoke them out.”  
“Literally or metaphorically?” Beckett asked raising an eyebrow.  
Brendon grinned sadistically. “Can’t we do it literally? I mean really set fire to the place.”  
“But if they have the means to repel such an attack, we’ve lost the advantage of surprise,” Beckett shook his head.  
“Surprise? I don’t want to throw a party for them, I want to kill them!” Brendon snapped in return.

The corner of Beckett’s mouth turned up. Brendon’s spell in disgrace had only served to make him all the more bloodthirsty. Beckett almost wished he’d done it years ago.

“I want something simple, cruel and foolproof,” Beckett announced. “Besides, fire will kill us too, I’m reluctant to launch such a dangerous attack for us. But I agree, we need to either get them out, or get someone in.”  
“They’ll never invite us in,” Brendon scoffed. “It’s not just their base it’s their home, we can’t get in without an invitation.”  
Beckett frowned. “I wasn’t proposing that we knock on the door and expect to be welcomed in.”  
“Well… then what?”  
“Their runner… what was his name? The guy Anton killed the night of the trap.”  
“Dirty.”  
Beckett rolled his eyes. “Yes, him. They’d let him in.”  
“One problem,” Brendon frowned. “He’s dead.”  
Beckett smiled wickedly. “Tell me, Brendon, what do you see?”

Brendon blinked as his eyes seemed suddenly to sting. By the time his vision cleared only moments later, in Beckett’s place, to all intent and purpose sat Patrick’s information gatherer, Dirty.

“Master William?” Brendon gasped.  
“Yes, Brendon, it is me.”  
“B…but your voice, everything… you…”  
“I don’t look or sound any different, it’s just what I’m projecting onto your mind.”  
“But, the voice… how did you know what he sounded like?”  
“I don’t need to know anything about the person. I can force your brain to accept that I am anyone I want. You will see and hear whatever I tell you.”  
“I had no idea you…” Brendon paused as Beckett removed the illusion and appeared to return to his own form.  
“You may never know the full extent of my powers, Brendon, but occasionally, you will learn of another and this is one of those days.”  
“Can you teach me?” Brendon asked eagerly.  
“If we are successful, I will teach you this and…” Beckett looked up as he thought of a tasty bait for his hook to encourage Brendon to try his hardest. “And levitation. Would you like that?”  
“Yes, Master!” Brendon gasped; it had been many years since Beckett had taught him mind control and now to be offered training in two new substantial powers, Brendon was thrilled.  
“Good, then just make sure our plan goes like clockwork. Now sit down, we have much work to do.”

Brendon pulled a chair close to the desk, keen to lay down the details of their plan. It would be foolproof, it would be simple, but above all, if he had his way, it would be cruel.

*

It was a safe bet that neither Pete nor Patrick would or even could wake until sunset but no one was taking any chances. Through the night, Simon, Joe and Andrea each took a turn standing guard. Joe hadn’t wanted Andrea to do it, he was worried that something would go wrong and she would be hurt. She had told him to stop being such a girl and go to bed. He had to admire her courage and determination, it was one of her many qualities he’d fallen for. Yes, he smiled to himself as he headed for his room, fallen for.

Andrea had opted for first watch. She reasoned that she was the only one of them who had had anything like a reasonable amount of sleep lately. Simon took the middle watch, accepting that Joe was best placed to be there when they first woke.

As expected, nothing had happened, the two vampires slept soundly through the day and as sunset approached Joe smiled happily as Andrea brought him a strong cup of coffee.

“So,” he smiled taking a sip. “You want to bet on who’ll wake up first?”  
“Are you kidding me?” Andrea replied. “It’s got to be Pete.”  
“Because he’s been a vampire longer?”  
“No, because fixing his hair and doing his make-up can’t be a quick thing to do.”

Joe chuckled and placed his free arm around Andrea’s waist to pull her close. He loved how she could always make him feel relaxed and safe.

“Well, I think it’ll be Patrick, just because I know his sleeping habits and…”  
“Really?” Andrea turned a fake shocked expression towards Joe.

Placing the mug down on the table next to him, Joe turned his attention to tickling the pretty brunette sitting on his lap until Patrick’s voice cut through their laughter.

“Well, I wouldn’t normally interrupt, but you have me at a disadvantage here.”

Joe’s head snapped up, the tickling stopped immediately and both he and Andrea turned grave expressions towards the cage.

“And, congratulations on winning the bet, Joe. Who’s your friend?”

Joe raised his eyebrows, it hadn’t occurred to him until he said the words that Patrick hadn’t met Andrea.

“This is Andrea, she saved my life the night of the trap,” Joe explained simply.  
“Really? Well, it looks as though you’re enjoying paying her back.”  
“Hey!” Joe cried angrily in return, easing Andrea quickly from his lap and jumping to his feet.  
“Joe,” Andrea warned. “Take it easy.”  
“What’s going on, Joe? I help Pete escape from Beckett’s and you still don’t trust me?”  
“Who do you think you’re chained to?” Joe snapped back.

Patrick glanced over his shoulder as far as he could turn and saw he was back to back with Pete, his head lolling to one side, still very much asleep. Patrick sighed his annoyance. Moving his fingers, he could tell that his and Pete’s hands had been chained together behind their backs. They were both seated on the floor of the cage, their feet sticking through and chained to the bars. Two more long chains threaded under their arms and around the bars either side of them. Patrick had to admire the ingenuity of the intricate pattern, but not the fact that he could barely move.

“Did Andy do this?” Patrick finally asked, knowing his ability to secure a vampire had gone unrivalled since Pete’s turning.  
“You’ve got the nerve to ask that?” Joe asked stepping forward.  
“What?” Patrick asked oblivious to the injuries he had inflicted. “Okay, so I hit him but…”  
“Hit him!” Joe fumed. “You nearly killed him!”  
“He tried to kill me!” Patrick offered in his defence. “What do you mean, I…”  
“He got a stake to defend himself!” Joe snapped. “Wouldn’t you, in his position?”

Patrick’s shoulders sagged at the question. Of course, it was exactly what he would have done, and more besides.

“Did I really nearly kill him?”  
“He’s concussed,” Simon replied entering the room. “You guys could wake the dead with your shouting!”  
“Very fucking funny,” Pete grumbled.  
“It wasn’t meant to be a joke,” Simon sighed, realising what he’d said.  
“Well, good, because I lied,” Pete snapped. “Any chance of something to eat?”  
“Wait your turn!” Joe yelled. “We haven’t even eaten yet!”  
“Oh, so what? We’re like dogs now are we, we get fed after the humans?”  
“Pete,” Patrick sighed shaking his head. “This isn’t getting us anywhere.”  
“You’re damn right it isn’t!” Pete growled, pulling on the chains and only succeeding in hurting Patrick in the process. “Sorry,” he added contritely on hearing a pained yelp from his friend.  
“You think you could do any of this quietly?” a tired voice asked from the doorway.

All eyes turned to see Andy standing, almost upright, in the doorway, leaning on the frame for support.

“I can hear you all the way back in my room.”

“Andy?” Patrick’s face was ashen as he saw the usually strong, but now drained and weak man struggling to hold himself upright in the doorway.  
“What?” Andy asked apparently without malice, but Patrick suspected that weakness played a large part in his lack of emotions.  
“I’m sorry.”

There was so much feeling packed into those two words that it unexpectedly caught Joe’s attention and sympathy. Turning back to face Patrick, he found himself trying to stop himself believing that Patrick was as remorseful as he looked and sounded. He wouldn’t allow himself to be tricked again. But what if it wasn’t a trick? What if they genuinely were still his friends? If only he could be sure.

“I was only going for the stake to defend myself,” Andy explained in the silent room. “I wasn’t going to kill you.”  
“I… I know that now, and, I wasn’t trying to hurt you, just knock you out long enough to get free. Andy, please believe me, I… I don’t know my own strength.”

Andy nodded and said the one simple thing that would give Joe the proof he was looking for.

“I do believe you. You could have killed me, drank my blood, but you didn’t. You drank the shake I made for you. You could have stayed at Beckett’s, but you rescued Pete.”  
“Well, I was pretty much…” Pete began only to be cut off by Patrick.  
“Pete, shut up. You were chained up in the dungeon waiting for Beckett to come and kill you.”  
Pete shrugged. “Yeah… well… I guess.”  
“Can you forgive me?” Patrick paused as he waited for a reply. “Andy?”  
Andy drew his lips into a thin line. “Joe, can we talk, please?”  
Joe nodded before indicating Simon and Andrea. “Shouldn’t we all?”

Nodding, Andy turned away to head for the adjacent room to debate their friends’ freedom.

“So,” Pete sighed. “I guess the jury’s out.”  
Patrick took a deep breath and looked about the cage that he himself constructed. “I hope it’s not a life sentence.”  
“Trick,” Pete turned his head. “Trust me, which ever way it goes, it’s a life sentence.”

*

Andy settled himself in a chair and found that it was all he could do not to fall asleep again. Keeping his eyes open was proving difficult, even not letting his head loll forward was taking quite a lot of effort. Still nauseous and weak, Andy knew he really wasn’t ready for a big argument or debate.

“You should be in bed,” Simon scolded.  
“Yeah,” Andy agreed without making a move, only causing his friend to roll his eyes.  
“Whatever happened to following doctor’s orders?”  
“We’re having a bit of crisis, Simon, I think we can put the small stuff on hold,” Andy fought back the nausea to try to look stern.  
“The state of your health is not small stuff!”  
“Please, Simon, can we concentrate on what to do about Pete and Patrick?”  
“But…” Simon nodded as he saw the pleading expression in Andy’s eyes, realising that the drummer was in fact fit to drop yet was putting his own needs aside to address their group’s other big concern. “Sure.”  
“You should be in bed, Andy,” Joe commented as he followed Andrea into the small room.  
“Don’t you start!” Andy sighed.  
“Sorry!” Joe raised his hands defensively.

Andy sighed to himself; Joe was still angry. Neither Patrick nor Pete had made it easy on themselves. They expected to be trusted and appeared not to understand why anyone doubted them. He had seen this exact pattern before when Pete first escaped from Beckett. He had been missing for eleven weeks. Beckett had bitten then abducted him without witnesses; it wasn’t until his return that they even knew what had happened.

_Patrick looked up as the hammering on the outer door distracted him from his case notes. He knew he had to be careful; there were a lot of vampire groups that would love to lay their murderous hands on them. Not the least of them were The Dandies. William Beckett, The Dandies’ charismatic leader, had made it known to them via a series of beautifully crafted letters all written in blood, that he intended to break them one by one. Patrick couldn’t help but notice that each of the letters, addressed to him personally, had all been received following Pete’s disappearance and he feared for his friend’s life. In the letters, Beckett had never gloated about taking Pete or even killing him, but he couldn’t rule it out. Patrick just prayed it wasn’t true._

_“Who is it?” Patrick shouted through the still closed door, making a mental note to set up a video camera outside to avoid the need for guesswork in the future._   
_“Trick, it’s me, Pete! I got away. Please, they’re catching up, let me in!”_

_Without hesitation, Patrick unlocked the door and pulled it open wide. Standing outside, alone, breathless and scared was Pete. In the distance, Patrick could see four known vampires, plus two he hadn’t observed before heading at speed for the warehouse. Rushing forward in his panic, Pete seemed to collide with an unseen obstruction._

_“Pete?” Patrick gasped as he realised what the problem was – the only thing it could be._

_Pete stared at his friend, his lips parted in fear and Patrick could now see the fangs, largely retracted, but still obvious. He could hear the laughter of the pursuing vampires as they realised that Pete was cornered and unable to escape to the safety of the warehouse without an invitation to enter. The very thing that had kept him safe as a human, now spelled his downfall as a vampire. They had him._

_“Are you going to eat me?” Patrick asked hurriedly, which even he would admit seemed a stupid thing to ask._   
_“No!” Pete cried, shocked by the question._

_The response was enough. By way of an invitation, Patrick pulled Pete through the open doorway before slamming it behind him, shutting out the vampires giving chase._

_“Same question,” Patrick asked again, staring wide-eyed and praying he hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of all their lives._   
_“Same answer,” Pete replied quietly with considerable relief._   
_“I… I want to hug you… but… I mean, will…”_   
_“Don’t. It’s probably best you don’t,” Pete replied looking down. “In fact, it’s probably best you just stake me now.”_   
_“I’m not going to do that,” Patrick almost laughed._   
_“Well, you need to do something,” Pete looked up; his brow furrowed and eyes pleading. “I haven’t eaten and I’m… I’m a bit edgy.”_   
_“Oh… I don’t have anything to give you.”_   
_“Patrick, you idiot, you do! But, you have to stop me before I just help myself.”_   
_“You mean…?”_   
_“What would you do if one of Beckett’s vampires were here?” Pete asked helpfully._   
_Patrick frowned and shrugged. “Chain him up, I guess. We’re not really equipped for…”_   
_Pete held his arms out, his wrists close together. “Get equipped. I don’t want you to kill me and I definitely don’t want to kill you.”_   
_“Beckett?” Patrick asked incredulously._   
_Pete nodded. “Do what you need to, then I’ll tell you everything.”_

When Patrick had told them of Pete’s return, Andy couldn’t help but notice what Patrick had missed. Yes, he had offered himself up almost as their prisoner, but only because he personally couldn’t trust his bloodlust. It was a good reason, certainly, but Pete was shocked to find that neither Andy nor Joe and possibly not even Patrick trusted him in return. He believed his efforts to be a precautionary measure only; that he was actually doubted had come as a shock to him. Perhaps they hadn’t handled it as well as they might now, but there was no precedent, just four friends, one of whom had become the very thing they were fighting. They were each thrown into turmoil and it had been months before the problem was resolved to any degree of satisfaction. Kept locked up for longer even than he had been held at Beckett’s mansion, Pete had tried hard to maintain a level of understanding, but his newly limited emotions and instincts failed to accept the lack of trust. Everything to him was now black or white, right or wrong. He had done nothing to deserve the mistrust they displayed. It was as if he simply didn’t understand that they didn’t fear what he had done, so much as what he might do. Falling ever deeper inside himself and feeling increasingly bitter, he developed a near-permanent surly edge to his outlook. Andy reflected on the fact that he had been the last to accept Pete’s return and his period of captivity had been extended three times, twice at Andy’s insistence. It had been a mistake and now, Andy hoped two things – firstly that they would not make the same mistakes with Patrick and secondly that Pete would find some comfort in the understanding of a fellow vampire. But what would Joe think? Now was probably not the best time to argue a case, but he would try.

“Is there much to say?” Joe asked perching on the end of a table.  
“I don’t think it’s as straightforward as all that,” Andy replied with a frown.  
“I never said it was straightforward,” Joe grumbled in return. “Just that when it comes down to it, there’s no real argument, is there? It’s just a vote. I mean last time…”  
“You think we got it right last time?” Andy cut in.  
“We didn’t know any better then!” Joe snapped back, jumping down from the table. “We had to do something! He could have eaten us, we had to keep him locked up until Patrick could figure out the right blend.”  
“Which he did within about three weeks.”  
“Five,” Joe corrected.  
“No, it was five before you believed he’d done it.”  
“And twelve before you did!” Joe snapped accusingly. “And then probably not.”  
“We took a leap of faith,” Andy replied quietly.  
“You didn’t! It was months before you really started to trust him.”  
“It was when he saved my life, to be exact,” Andy sighed.  
“Yeah,” Joe sighed too, the memory of how close Andy had come to death, was an unpleasant one, despite how things had eventually turned out.  
“Hang on,” Simon interrupted. “Do you guys know what you’re arguing about?”  
“What do you mean?” Joe asked, tilting his head to one side. “Of course we do. Whether or not we can trust Pete and Patrick. I know this must seem really weird to you, Simon…”  
“No, no, no!” Simon shook his head. “I don’t think you get it. Do either of you know what the other wants to do?”

Both Joe and Andy looked up at their friend’s ridiculous question. Of course they knew!

“Keep them locked up,” they replied in unison.

Joe and Andy stared at each other in astonishment.

“You trust them?” Andy asked.  
“Yeah,” Joe admitted. “It was what you said about Patrick drinking the shake. You? I thought you’d be too angry with Patrick.”  
“Same, he could have killed me but he didn’t. I don’t believe he even meant to do what he did and I was pretty stupid not telling him the stake was just for self-defence. I forgot he had a hand free from drinking his last shake.” Andy paused as he considered his next words. “Joe, we made a lot of big mistakes with Pete, I don’t want to miss the blindingly obvious this time.”  
Joe nodded with a smile. “Then… we free them?”  
Andy gave his first genuinely happy smile since he woke. “Yeah. And… uh… thanks, Simon. I think that could have gone on a while if you hadn’t stepped in.”

*

Patrick looked over as the door opened. His expression turned to one of anticipation as he saw Joe look behind him and laugh.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Pete muttered behind him.  
“Get out of my head,” Patrick grumbled in return.  
“I don’t need to be in your head,” Pete scoffed, “I have eyes too, you know. So, the jury’s back quickly. Verdict?”  
Joe pulled his lips into a thin line before the ends curled up and he produced a key from his pocket. “Not guilty.”  
“Really?” Patrick gasped with surprise.  
“Really,” Joe replied with a grin.  
“What!” Pete turned an incredulous expression towards his two hunter friends.  
“Pete?” Andy frowned. “We’re freeing you. How is that a bad thing?”  
“I was locked up for fourteen fucking weeks! He hasn’t even been here fourteen hours!”  
“Thanks, man!” Patrick scowled, wishing he could land a punch on Pete’s pouting jaw.  
“Don’t even think about it!” Pete snapped.  
“Get the fuck out of my head!”  
“Look,” Andy interrupted, “if you two don’t want freeing, just say so!”  
“No!” Patrick replied quickly. “The faster I’m out of here the better.”  
“No, Andy, I think you better leave him another week or so.”  
“What the hell!” Patrick tried to turn his head at the words.  
“Well, maybe I don’t trust you!” Pete goaded.  
“Get me out of here, Andy! Please!” Patrick begged.  
“Look!” Andy raised his hands in a gesture of silence. “Shut up! The pair of you! I’m not up to this right now!”

A dull repetitive thudding came from the outer door, catching Joe’s attention.

“Andy,” he shrugged, “why don’t you tell them why we came to the decision we did? Maybe it’ll help? And I’ll see what’s going on.”

Andy nodded. Pete’s reaction wasn’t entirely unexpected. Whilst he had objected strongly to his extended period of captivity, he had tried to understand. Now, Patrick had been accepted back in a matter of mere hours. Whilst he didn’t want Patrick to suffer as he had, it seemed extremely unfair to him. Andy would be able to settle his mind, if only he would listen. Heading for the door, Joe walked the long length of rooms and corridors back to the main door. Checking the video cameras Patrick had installed after Pete’s return, he could barely believe his eyes. Outside a man stood, bruised, bleeding and barely able to stand. The man worked for them, but more than that, he was a friend.

“Dirty?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Well, the next chapter is the last one for this story. What will happen, I wonder? But! There is a sequel called A Little More Kill Him which I will post (also pre-written). Thanks for reading and commenting - I'm so happy you've enjoyed this tale! Sas xox


	14. Will Beckett get the upper hand?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Does Beckett's plan work and if so, what will it mean for the guys? Last Chapter

Joe pulled the door open and gazed down at the man supporting himself on one knee, bruised bloodied and exhausted.

“Dirty! What happened to you?” Joe asked, tricked by Beckett’s mind control, he was unaware that he was actually speaking to Dandies leader.  
“I was attacked, got away. Don’t know how, but I got away.”  
“Attacked? By vampires?” Joe asked cautiously.  
“No, I don’t know who they were,” Beckett sagged, grimacing in imaginary pain. “Please, Joe…”  
“Sure… sorry…” Joe replied hurriedly as he bent down to help him up.

With his hands on his arms, Joe looked into the man’s eyes and somehow he knew that something felt wrong.

“Uhn… no, wait…”  
“Sorry, Joseph,” Beckett curled his fingers around Joe’s arm, gripping him unnaturally tightly. “You lose.”

Struggling against Beckett’s grip, Joe gasped as the control of his perception was lifted and finally he saw who held him. Beckett curled his mouth into a cruel sneer as he rose, towering over Joe, not for a moment releasing his firm hold on him. Suddenly shoving him backwards, Beckett delighted in the expression on Joe’s face that, for a fleeting moment, believed he had a chance of escape. Instead Joe found himself propelled into Brendon’s equally vice-like hold.

“I should have known you’d pull something like this!” Joe struggled ineffectually in Brendon’s grip. “You’re a coward!”  
“Somehow,” Beckett grinned menacingly as he stroked the fur stole draped over his left shoulder, “I don’t expect you to have a high opinion of me. Neither do I care.”  
“Joe!”

Joe stopped struggling and turned his head at the sound of Andrea’s terrified voice. His eyes widened as he realised she was about to cross the threshold – the only thing keeping her safe.

“No!” he yelled, pleading with his eyes. “Stay inside, you’re safe there, they can’t touch you!”  
“But… no!”  
“You can’t help me, there’s nothing you can do.” Joe insisted. “Stay where you are!”

The pair stared at each other; pained expressions told of their fear that they would never see each other again.

“Oh, this is just too sweet!” Beckett mocked. “Brendon, kill him.”  
“My pleasure!” Brendon grinned as he pulled Joe’s head to one side.  
“No!” Andrea stepped forward automatically.

Releasing his grip on Joe’s head, Brendon laughed loudly as Andrea’s terrified expression turned to one of bewilderment as, in a blur of movement, Beckett now held her in his grip.

“Let her go, Beckett!” Joe cried. “You don’t want her, she’s just another human to you.”  
“That’s where you’re wrong, Joseph,” Beckett’s lips curled into a smile as he turned Andrea to face him, holding both of her arms and relishing the expression of fear and uncertainty in her eyes. “Like you, I can see how special she is. How delicate, fragile, beautiful. She will be mine, forever.”  
“No!” Joe screamed and tried his best to pull free as Beckett bent down to press his fangs to her neck.  
“Beckett!”

Glancing up, Beckett smiled at the sight of Andy and Simon, both now standing in the doorway. Andy looked exhausted, and still very ill – all his energy being taken merely to remain standing. In his hand, Andy was holding another of Patrick’s gadgets – a stake gun. Roughly the length of a sawn off shotgun, but with wider barrels, the gun came equipped with a loading mechanism attached to a clip holding up to ten miniature stakes.

“Let them go, Beckett,” Andy demanded.  
“Or?” Beckett asked softly.  
“I’ll kill you both.”  
“No,” Beckett shook his head. “You see, my dear, Andrew, I have the upper hand. I always have the upper hand.”

Andy’s eyes widened as he felt something sharp pressed to his neck.

“This scalpel is very sharp, Andy,” Simon hissed into his ear. “If I were you, I wouldn’t move.”  
“Simon? But you’re not a vampire, you were awake during the day.” Andy’s blood ran cold at the shock of his friend working voluntarily for Beckett.  
“That’s right, I’m not, but Master Beckett has taken very good care of me.”  
“You think he’ll do anything but kill you now?” Andy spat, bitter at the betrayal.

Brendon stepped forward, dragging the equally shaken Joe with him. Brendon wore a superior smirk as Andy was forced to lower and finally drop the stake gun.

“I told you when we had you in the dungeon that you had a spy in your camp. You didn’t believe me.”  
“You said it was Joe!”  
“Yeah, I lied about that, but you do have a spy in your camp, but I guess you know that now,” Brendon grinned. “And he’s successfully kept you feeling ill following your little injury.”

Joe frowned deeply. The injections Simon had given to Andy, supposedly to make him feel better or sleep, were all designed to keep him feeling weak and nauseous. Struggling once more in Brendon’s grip, Joe knew it was futile, but he was too frustrated not to even try.

“Are the others still caged?” Beckett asked, his voice taking on a more serious tone.  
“They only got as far as deactivating the electrical current and opening the door, but they are both still chained up inside, Master,” Simon nodded. “Please, come in.”

*

“Pull!” Pete growled again.  
“I’m not as strong as you!” Patrick protested. “If you can’t break them, how can I?”  
“Stop complaining and pull!” Pete snapped back. “You heard all that outside, didn’t you? If we don’t get out of here fast, we’re dead!”

Each of them went back to straining against the chains. Gritting his teeth, Pete closed his eyes tightly as he tried desperately to pull his strong arms apart. Finally with a gasp of effort, Pete’s right hand pulled free as two of the links broke. Shaking his left hand loose and unhooking his arms from the arrangement that held him upright, Pete grunted in frustration as he turned his attention to his ankles. Smiling as he saw them secured with smaller, easily broken padlocks, Pete was making his way from the cage only seconds later.

“Pete!” Patrick turned his head to stare up at his friend. “What about me?”  
“I’m sorry, Patrick, I don’t have time,” he replied quickly before heading for the door.

Patrick gave a cry of frustration, as he remained seated on the cage floor, still fully secured and helpless.

*

Beckett walked confidently towards the doorway laughing as Andy narrowed his eyes at him. Simon took a few steps back dragging Andy with him to make room for Beckett’s entrance. Andy’s mouth turned from a deep frown into a satisfied smirk as the invisible force that had always kept Beckett from entering still prevented his access.

“What is this?” Beckett demanded angrily. “He invited me in!”  
“He doesn’t live here!” Andy crowed at Beckett’s humiliation. “He can invite you all he likes, but it won’t make any difference!”  
“Then you will invite me in!” Beckett snapped, glaring at the hunter.  
“No I won’t,” Andy replied defiantly, his lips drawn into a thin line, his jaw clenched.  
“You will when I order my servant to draw that scalpel across your throat.”  
“No,” Andy spoke calmly, almost icily, “I won’t.”  
“Simon.” Infuriated, Beckett spoke slowly and deliberately, his tone chilling. “Kill him.”

Simon’s eyes widened in shock at the order. He had kept Andy from recovering and now he held a scalpel to his throat, but the order to kill was not one he had expected.

“M…Master Beckett…I…”  
“I said, kill him!” Beckett screamed.

Simon felt little more than a gust of wind around him and a blur of black and red rushed by his eyes. The first thing he was truly aware of was the crushing pain searing through his entire body as his head was forced back against the wall behind him. Only a moment later, the scalpel tinkled to the floor.

“Release Patrick!” Pete yelled, pushing Andy back down the corridor as he pulled the doctor from his slumped position against the wall, his blood pouring from a head-wound. Pete’s mouth watered as the smell of the blood filled his nostrils. It was more than he could stand and in moments, he had sunk his fangs deep into the man’s neck, draining off what was left. Licking his lips, he relished the last few drops as he let Simon drop to the floor.

“So, Peter,” Beckett chuckled, “I did wonder if you’d been left with a taste for human blood. You didn’t even hesitate, they were obviously right to keep you chained up.”  
“I know what you want, Beckett,” Pete growled, ignoring his taunts.  
“Do you, indeed?”  
“You know I do,” Pete locked eyes with the vampire who turned him, “you told me what you wanted. You need me, you won’t manage it without me.”  
“William?” Brendon queried. “What’s he talking about?”  
“Not now, Brendon!” Beckett snapped. “I warned you to keep your paranoia under control!”  
“I wouldn’t need to if you didn’t give me cause to be paranoid!” Brendon yelled back, furious to be kept in the dark, again.

Shooting a furious glance in his direction, Beckett watched as Brendon shrank back as he realised just how out of turn he had spoken. Not only had he argued with his master, he had done so in front of their prisoners. The error was typical of the brash, hot-headed vampire, but was it forgivable?

“Master,” Brendon lowered his head; he knew that if his heart still beat, it would be racing now. “Master, please forgive my outburst.”

Beckett narrowed his eyes. Brendon had, again, made him appear foolish in the eyes of others, but now was not the time.

“I will deal with you later, Brendon, but for now, do as I order without question.”  
“Yes, Master,” Brendon spoke quietly.

Pete grinned. Brendon really was the wreck that Patrick had painted him. He had always doubted Patrick’s observations of Brendon. Patrick had noticed things that Pete had been utterly oblivious to. He would have liked to have excused his lack of observation on Patrick’s more discerning human eyes, but he knew that Patrick had begun his notes long before his turning and even then, he hadn’t seen half the things that Patrick had. It was a gift. A gift that he sincerely hoped he hadn’t destroyed by turning him. Pete frowned bitterly at Beckett; he hadn’t just destroyed his life, he had effectively taken Patrick’s too and now he was trying to kill them all. He wouldn’t let him.

“No!”

Pete’s eyes widened as he found himself held back by Patrick. Now freed from the cage, Patrick had raced at speed to prevent Pete from running blindly into what he believed was a trap. Behind him, moving much more slowly, Andy finally reached the doorway, grimacing as he saw Simon’s crumpled form. The gash on his head and the bite marks on his neck told him all he needed to know. The man he had thought was a friend was dead.

“What do you mean, no? He’s going to kill them!” Pete argued, trying, surprisingly unsuccessfully, to push Patrick aside.  
“No he isn’t,” he replied forcefully before turning. “Are you?”  
Beckett smirked. “And what makes you think that?”  
“Because you want us.”  
“And I’ll get you,” Beckett replied confidently.  
“No,” Patrick shook his head. “Not unless you let them go.”  
“You’ll stand by and watch them die?”  
Patrick stared back, his face unreadable. “It’s simple logic. If we come out, you have all of us. If we stay here, you may kill Joe and Andrea, but you won’t get us.”  
“And you’ll take that risk?”  
“The risk is all yours,” Patrick replied confidently.

Beckett took a deep breath. Patrick’s logic was undeniable and he couldn’t be sure it was a bluff. But he had two chances, he could test him quite easily.

“You’re saying that if I sink my fangs into this delicious young woman, that you would do nothing to help her?”  
“No,” Patrick replied, tight-lipped. “Nothing.”  
“Patrick!” Joe cried straining against Brendon’s hold on him. “Please! He’s going to turn her! Please! You can stop him!”

Beckett smirked cruelly, relishing Joe’s pain. Slowly, he allowed his fangs to extend and holding Andrea still, he lowered his head.

*

Beckett glanced up smiling expectantly, waiting for Patrick to crack, but he remained standing very still looking back with a steely stare. Behind him, Andy snatched up the stake gun only to have it pushed forcefully out of his hands, breaking apart as it smashed to the floor.

“What the hell are you…?” Andy began before, in the mere blink of an eye, he was shoved back against the wall.

Beside him, Pete gazed in astonishment as he realised that Patrick was even faster than he was; even Beckett was impressed at the speed of one so young. By now, they had all noticed that Beckett had paused, his fangs hovering dangerously close to Andrea’s neck. She trembled in his hands, wishing she could run to the safety of Joe’s arms. Even though she couldn’t see what was happening behind her, she knew from the pause and the tightening grip on her arms that Beckett was growing angrier.

“One hostage, one of us. Two hostages, both of us,” Patrick announced coolly.  
“Hey… wait! What? No!” Pete stammered as Patrick offered them both to Beckett willingly.

Beckett raised his head once more, to both Joe and Andrea’s relief, as he considered Patrick’s words.

“How do I know you’ll keep your word?” Beckett asked thoughtfully. “How do I know your word works for both of you?”  
“Pete?” Patrick half turned. “You want to save them?”  
“Well, yeah, of course, but…”  
“This is the only way,” Patrick insisted. “You know that as well as I do.”

Pete looked down, pouting distractedly. Yes, he knew it was true, but damn it! Why did Patrick always have to be right? With a determined expression, Pete turned to Patrick and nodded solemnly.

“One for one,” Patrick suggested.  
“Peter first,” Beckett replied curtly.  
Laughing, Patrick shook his head. “Oh, no, I don’t think so. I know it’s Pete you really want, so, it’s me first.”

Beckett curled his lips in deference to Patrick’s insight into his devious mind. He returned in kind.

“You for the girl,” Beckett nodded as Patrick’s stern face broke into a smile that mirrored his own expression. “And I know you’re fast, but trust me, Patrick, I’m faster.”

Patrick took a step forward, only to have his arm pulled back by Pete.

“How can you trust him?” he asked under his breath.  
Uncurling Pete’s fingers from his arm, he moved forward again. “I can, can’t I?”  
“We have no choice but to trust each other,” Beckett replied calmly.

Nodding at what seemed a most bizarre gentleman’s agreement, Patrick walked halfway to where Beckett stood, still with a firm grip on Andrea. As the pair stared at each other, Beckett smiled at Patrick’s coolness in light of the situation. Releasing his grip on Andrea, he watched as she ran back to the safety of the warehouse, sparing Joe a worried glance as she passed. Moving forward, Patrick allowed his arms to be gripped by Beckett, the elder vampire’s strength taking him very much by surprise.

Pete shot a glance toward Brendon, still holding Joe, before taking a few paces in his direction. Within moments, he was almost at his side. Waiting for a signal from Beckett, Brendon finally released Joe, who stared with concern at his two friends before finally passing Pete on the way back to the warehouse. Patrick smiled with satisfaction as he saw Joe pull the still terrified and almost tearful Andrea close to him. Andy appeared almost lost in bitter sadness at the sight of his two friends, once again Beckett’s captives.

“You know, of course, that this truce only lasts until we get you back to the mansion,” Beckett asked carefully as he turned his gaze towards the three standing just inside the door of the warehouse. “Don’t consider yourselves safe for a moment.”  
“But they are for now.” Patrick spoke the words as a statement rather than a question.  
“For now,” Beckett agreed grudgingly as he led the way to his waiting car, a luxurious Bentley. “On this occasion, Brendon, I will drive. You will guard our guests.”

*

Andy watched as the car drove away. He felt numb. In only a few short minutes he had watched his friends taken, he presumed to their deaths, and discovered that a long-time friend had been betraying them for months, possibly more. Simon, now dead at Pete’s hands lay in a pool of blood at his feet. Still feeling the effects of the drugs Simon had pumped him with to keep him from recovering, Andy had never felt quite so nauseous. Within moments the tension and shock of recent events had him retching. Sinking to his knees, he emptied what little remained in his stomach, coughing hard, his eyes watering with the pain of the movement. He felt two pairs of hands comforting him and two seemingly garbled and distorted voices trying to soothe his pain. Looking up at Joe and Andrea, Andy frowned as the pair appeared to move in and out of focus. A rush of white noise filled his head and blackness came down over his eyes. Crumpling to the side, Andy was unaware that Joe had caught him.

*

The doors to the car were securely locked and the windows reinforced, but neither Pete not Patrick could have known that. Watching their two captives closely, Brendon eyed the pair suspiciously. They had almost reached the mansion and neither of them had made even the slightest hint of a move to escape. It wasn’t what he expected and it unnerved him.

“What are you planning, Patrick?” he finally asked.  
Patrick stared back, his expression giving nothing away. “What makes you think I’m planning something?” he asked his tone reflecting his assumed innocence.  
“Because that’s what you do!” Brendon snapped back.

Turning to look out of the window, Patrick shrugged as he saw the huge mansion gates swinging open to allow the car access.

“We’re entering the mansion grounds, Brendon, if I was planning something, don’t you think I’d have done it by now?”

Brendon smirked as he caught sight of Pete’s nervous sidelong glance. It was clear that he too had expected Patrick to have some plan of either attack or escape, but it appeared as if his only plan was to save Joe and Andrea. It was admirable, but Pete had now to reconcile himself with what he knew would be a slow death for them both.

“Correct, Peter,” Beckett chuckled, as he read Pete’s mind. “You can look forward to a long, slow, tortuous death and the best part? You’ll starve, both you in the same cell until one of you cracks and kills the other.”  
“I’m not convinced that ‘look forward to’ is the right phrase,” Pete grumbled, his tone dripping with sarcasm.  
“Oh, trust me, it is, but admittedly, it may only be me that looks forward to it.”  
“Oh, I don’t know, William, I’ll be taking a front row seat too.” Brendon’s grin turned to a frown as he looked at Patrick once more, unnerved by his continued silence. “He’s up to something, William, I can feel it.”  
“You’re frightened of a fledgling vampire?” Beckett scoffed as he drew the car to a soft stop outside the mansion’s main doors. “Take them inside,” he ordered. “To my office.”

Under guard, Pete and Patrick stepped from the car, Pete narrowing his eyes at Patrick’s unconcerned stance.

“What are you up to?” he whispered as he watched Patrick standing apparently admiring the mansion with his hands stuffed into his jeans’ pockets. Patrick merely turned and offered Pete a thin smile, which did little except confuse him more.

Surrounding them, a group of four of Beckett’s coven, acting as guards, brought up the rear as the pair followed Brendon to Beckett’s office. Pete sighed; it hadn’t been so long since he last stood here. He knew now that Beckett would stop at nothing to get him either under control or kill him. As it turned out, it would be the latter, but even that was preferable to the possibility of being forced to call him Master. He looked guiltily at Patrick; it was his fault he was here, his fault he was a vampire and his fault he would die so soon after being turned. Perhaps it was for the best? Surely Patrick would despise him for what he had done?

“Not at all,” Patrick said quietly, reassuringly.

Pete turned surprised eyes towards him, unaware that he had been listening to his thoughts.

“Well you’re a sly one, aren’t you?” Pete grinned at the surprise revelation of Patrick’s abilities.

_You don’t know the half of it._

The words sounded clearly in Pete’s mind and he was forced to suppress a smile. Did he have a plan after all?

The door opened and Brendon glanced over as Beckett entered the room, striding confidently in his triumph. His cape, hat, cane and stole now gone, he looked immaculate in a stone-coloured suit, white shirt and white silk cravat with gold collar studs. Taking a seat at his desk, Beckett leaned back in his chair and smirked with unbridled joy at the two hunters finally his prisoners without risk of rescue or escape.

“I can’t say that I understand the foolish sacrifice you made for your friends, but I guess that’s why you’re my prisoners and not the other way around,” Beckett laughed as he leaned back further in his chair.  
“I guess so,” Patrick smiled in return.

Pulling his hand from his pocket at lightening speed, he showered both Beckett and Brendon with a handful of tiny spheres looking like ball bearings but with a dull sheen to them. His left hand closed on a small device attached to his belt and squeezing it, he grinned with expectation. Each of the spheres burst into flame with a dazzling phosphorescent flash. Panicking as his clothes caught light, Beckett looked frantically around as Brendon and half the office were alight too. The fire would kill them; they had to act quickly. Wrapping himself in the heavy drapes that hung at the window, Beckett screamed in frustration as they too caught light. Pulling his jacket and shirt from his body with fingers blackened and burnt from contact with the flames, Beckett quickly realised that something within the spheres was fuelling the fires, preventing them from dying. Terrified shrieks from his second-in-command told him that Brendon was in increasing pain and panic stricken. A sudden crash of the windows shattering allowed in both the first hint of dawn and a gust of wind that fanned the spreading flames.

Beyond the office door, more horrified cries told him that Patrick had almost certainly left a trail of the spheres throughout the mansion; the entire building was now a raging inferno. Looking up, Beckett’s eyes widened as the ceiling of his office began to crumble and he missed the collapse only because Brendon, now also stripped to the waist, pulled him away at the last moment.

“William, we have to leave!” Brendon shouted over the noise of the conflagration. “We’ll die if we stay!”  
“My house!” Beckett wailed. “My Coven!”  
“It’s gone,” Brendon risked Beckett’s wrath as he stated the harsh truth. What wasn’t destroyed by fire would probably be finished off by the light of the dawn now filtering through the shattered windows.  
“Master!” Brendon pleaded. “We have to escape now, before the dawn comes fully.”

Racing from the building as the fire raged, and consumed with fury, Beckett screamed loudly at the sight of his beloved car exploding into a fireball, shards of metal flying through the air propelled by the force of the flames.

“The shelter,” Brendon tugged at Beckett’s arm, “Master, the shelter!”

Pulled towards an underground bunker built especially for just such an emergency, Beckett allowed Brendon to lead him to safety. Deep inside the shelter, the exhausted Coven leader stared blankly at first. Brendon looked at him intently, trying to decipher the expression. It wasn’t until Beckett spoke again that he realised that the look on his master’s face was of unimaginable fury.

“Brendon, he’s taken everything from me,” his voice clipped and bitter. “Everything. My home, my Coven, my position. I won’t rest until I take everything from him.”  
“Pete?” Brendon queried.  
“Patrick,” Beckett growled. “Peter humiliated me, certainly, but that was nothing in comparison to what Patrick has done to me.”  
“You’ll get revenge, William, I won’t rest until you do!” Brendon almost shook with rage to think they would have to start the Coven again.  
Beckett nodded slowly. “I’ll take everything he has and everyone close to him. I’ll do it slowly, carefully and I’ll relish the fear on his face when I crush his world.”

Sitting in silence, the pair could hear the screams and crackling of the flames raging above them; knowing, at least for the time being, there was nothing they could do.

*

“Andrea! Help me!” Joe called from the car as he pulled up outside the warehouse.

Inside Andy nodded lightly as Andrea placed the bowl of soup back onto the table. It had only been a few spoonfuls but already, he’d had enough; he guessed it would be at least a couple of days before Simon’s drugs began to wear off.

“You got them?” she called, racing outside.  
“Yeah,” he replied quickly, opening up the rear car door to reveal two black body bags containing Pete and Patrick. “You should have seen it! The whole mansion was ablaze! You’d have liked to have seen it, I’m sure. I don’t think anything could have survived that, not even Beckett.”

Helping Joe with the two sleeping vampires as the first rays of daylight lit the sky, Andrea couldn’t help but give a sigh of relief at the idea that Beckett and his Coven were finally dead.

Inside the warehouse, the still weak, but recovering, Andy cast his eyes once more over the note left for him by Patrick.

 

_Have a plan to destroy Beckett. Come at dawn with two body bags. If all goes well, we’ll be waiting._

_Patrick_

 

All had gone very well and all that remained was for everything to return to normal, or as close as it was ever likely to get for them.

All the while, they remained oblivious to the fact that deep inside the bunker, the two vampires they had mistakenly assumed dead were plotting their revenge.

 

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many many thanks to everyone who read, reviewed and/or sent messages all along the way. I really hope you enjoyed it! I know I did! :D Sas xox
> 
> Look out for the sequel – … A Little More Kill Him


End file.
